




-V:. A- v ■ A A:, • - ' ' - ; ' -' ■ • 

'M?W:-Z'M^ZZ\Z : Z P'k'MC ■ Z- ■ SCJfA ZiZZ'Z Z'§::: 

-I■■■>. ?:Uy : ■ Z Z‘z ■., -v., •/;•"* ■ ■ ■ <,% -r^- f ; y : f^zz .^,Vv •• y?Z*i •: 

v4: .V A %kt it ft* * ;"• ' '' s ? "''..'A*-. . V L? • ’ -A; ./A^b't t 28$ '•$&$ I- 

•^AviA? ;'>v'4-£ .v'A' 1 ' C V-vA ?■ ■' ■<■.'■'" •■/'■..- * v.\ ■■';■; ;;Ct ’ 1 ' 1 Vi- ' ■ ‘ ■ 'ZZ-Z ‘ Z' : ' 'I \V "r-"’,.'. v" v y . 

I , * ^ t 1 








{'•lass ' 








































































































































































































































































. 








































































































































. 






































































v% 






























* . 













































































































































































































































































































































































































































JBat&antel ^)()alen 


ELIZABETH OF ENGLAND. A Dramatic 
Romance. In five volumes : I. The Corona¬ 
tion. II. The Rival Queens. III. Armada 
Days. IV. Essex. V. The Passing of the 
Queen. 8vo, the set, $10.00, net. Postage 
extra. 

THE INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 

i6mo, $1.25. 

KENTUCKY. In the American Common¬ 
wealths Series. With Map. i6mo, $1.25. 

ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE EARTH’S SUR¬ 
FACE. Part I. Glaciers. By N. S. Shaler 
and Wm. Morris Davis. Splendidly illus¬ 
trated. Folio, $xo.oo. 

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & COMPANY, 
Boston and New York. 




Elizabeth of England 

& ©ramattc Romance 

IN FIVE PARTS 
BY 

N. S. Shaler 

PROFESSOR OF GEOLOGY IN HARVARD UNIVERSITY 


I. 


I. The Coronation 

II. The Rival Queens 

III. Armada Days 

IV. The Death of Essex 

V. The Passing of the Queen 


The 


Coronation 


By 

N. S. Shaler 



BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
Houghton, Mifflin and Company 
QTH Etftomrtfce cm, Cambritop 
1903 






t THE LI' » , V C. : 

CONGRESS, 
*T«»oCoPi«e Ri^tvCTif 

1 Kiev I 1903{ 

l fV»v*vrO(n«T mtrtrt [ 

\ (Xr.X 1 c - / ^ o $ 

|Cl.ASS A-YXr. No 

”") / <S is *Z» 


COPYRIGHT I903 BY N. S. SHALER 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 


PUBLISHED NOVEMBER I9O3 



PREFACE 


HIS dramatic romance was begun in 
order to test the truth of a common 
statement as to the effect on the mind 
of long continued application to tasks 
such as occupy men of science. The foremost of 
naturalists, Charles Darwin, has stated that in his 
youth he found much pleasure in poetry and de¬ 
lighted in the plays of Shakespeare, but that many 
years of scientific labor had not only destroyed his 
enjoyment of literature but had made dramatic 
works, even those of the highest order, positively 
distasteful to him. It is not at all surprising that 
Mr. Darwin’s experience, and the lack of literary 
form which so often characterizes the writings of 
able investigators, have led to a general belief that 
there is something in the quality of scientific work 
which inevitably leads to a loss of imaginative 
power. This is a serious charge, — nothing less 
than an allegation that natural science tends to 
diminish the capacity of those engaged in it to 
enter on those sympathetic relations with their feh 






vi Preface 

lows which the higher literature induces. To the 
field of scientific endeavor many of the abler men 
of our generation are now devoted, and in the 
generations to come such studies are to claim in 
ever increasing measure the attention of leaders of 
thought. If these inquirers are by their occupa¬ 
tion not only to be separated from literature but to 
lose the capacity to appreciate it, we are indeed in 
a bad way, for all imaginable profit from the in¬ 
crease of our knowledge concerning the physical 
realm would not compensate for such a loss of 
human power. 

For some years I have been from time to time 
drawn into debate with my friends whose pursuit 
is literature, as to the effect of science on the im¬ 
agination. I have found that they, as well as many 
of my fellow students of nature, are convinced of 
the essential incompatibility of science and the 
humanities. I have held for what seemed to me 
good reasons to the belief that the work of the 
naturalist in interrogating his world of facts differs 
in no essential way from that of the poet in elabo¬ 
rating his fancies. Both alike use the constructive 
imagination, — the only possible instrument of 
such discoverers in any field of happenings, — in 
the soul of man as in the stars. They differ in the 


Preface vii 

end they seek, but not in the way they follow. In 
my opinion the naturalist uses the same capacity 
for picturing the unseen that serves the poet; it is 
true that he has to subject his fancies to a stricter 
process of comparison, but this is, as regards the 
essential process, a matter of no consequence. 

If it be true that the poetic and the scientific 
imagination are essentially the same, it follows that 
the naturalist should, in the course of his work, 
develop a capacity for other tasks of fancy than 
those which habitually occupy him. It is quite 
possible that, as in the case of Darwin, a youthful 
interest in the great literary products of the imagi¬ 
nation might be so overlaid by other interests that 
they would cease to be attractive; but the essential 
capacity for such picturing should not be destroyed 
but rather augmented by scientific work. It might 
be difficult for a man of the naturalist’s peculiar 
training to turn his well - developed constructive 
imagination into the poetic field ; but if he could 
accomplish the shift he should find that his powers 
\ served him on that ground as well as on his own. 

Considering the matter from this point of view, 
it appeared to me desirable to make a personal 
experiment which might have some measure of 
critical value. As in the case of Darwin, and of 


viii Preface 

several other men of science with whom I have 
discussed this question, I had been in my youth 
much interested in poetry, and as a lad was ad¬ 
dicted to writing verses. When at about eigh¬ 
teen years of age I turned to the study of nature, 
this motive began to wane; within ten years it had 
vanished, as it seemed, utterly. Even the plays of 
Shakespeare, of which I had once been fond, be¬ 
came to me tedious, and the stage so fatiguing 
that for forty years I have not willingly visited a 
theatre. In order to make the experiment as effec¬ 
tive as might be, I sought advice which might 
determine what kind of literary work would afford 
the best criteria as to the validity of my hypothe¬ 
sis. In the judgment of those well informed in 
the matter, the drama of the Elizabethan type 
seemed likely to be the best for my purpose. It 
was evident that an experiment in this field would 
be difficult enough, for I had never made any essay 
in the dramatic form; it seemed indeed quite 
impossible to bring myself into the frame of mind 
in which such work is done, yet because it was 
critical it attracted me. 

As a foundation for my task I had read Bacon 
and other writers of the Tudor period ; but this 
reading had been done for a very different purpose, 


Preface ix 

and was in great part forgotten. In addition I had 
read certain gossipy accounts of those times, includ¬ 
ing the letters of Elizabeth and of Essex and a por¬ 
tion of the records concerning the administrations 
of the Cecils. In no sense could this process be 
termed an inquiry; it served only to impress on 
my mind the spirit of that age. When I came to 
the actual work of writing, the task was so repug¬ 
nant that it was very difficult to make a beginning. 
Without experience in using the metrical forms 
of the Elizabethan plays, I thought to use some 
kind of measured prose and began in that form, 
taking pains to visualize every scene in precisely 
the way my occupation had taught me to shape an 
imagined set of conditions in the physical realm. 
So far as I can recall the experience, the seemingly 
impossible task suddenly became easy. After a few 
hundred words had been set down, in an almost 
automatic manner, the writing began to take shape 
as heroic verse, which at once proved to be an 
easier and more sustaining mode of expression than 
prose, — far easier to frame and more helpful to 
the mind than the prose I am now writing. 

Although this romance was written at chance 
times such as could be spared from engrossing 
business, — much of it indeed at odd moments, — 


x Preface 

it soon became evident that the composition was, 
in a way, continued from day to day in the region 
below the plane of consciousness, appearing only 
when attention was directed to it. The characters, 
so far as I can determine, were shaped on mem¬ 
ories of men and women I have known, and 
the incidents from various experiences in my life, 
or from memories derived from chance reading. 
Only a small part of this imaginative presentation 
has entered into this writing ; the tide of it was 
singularly excessive, suggesting indeed, that in the 
lower realm of the mind, which it is the fashion 
to term the subliminal, work of this kind had been 
going on for years, though my conscious self had 
taken no account of it. This view is supported by 
the fact that sundry of the trains of imagined inci¬ 
dent, such as the story of the progress of the Ar¬ 
mada up the channel, were written at one sitting, 
and with a vague sense that the matter had been 
previously thought out so that it needed only to be 
set down. 

It is hardly necessary to tell the reader who 
knows the history of the Elizabethan period that 
this poem is not historical. The greater num¬ 
ber of the incidents have no foundation in fact, 
and when they have a semblance of reality are 


Preface xi 

often much out of chronological order. I was 
aware of the more serious of these anachronisms at 
the time the writing was done, but chronological 
correctness seemed oddly unimportant to the im¬ 
agination. If these offenses appear to need pallia¬ 
tion, it may perhaps be found in the conditions of 
the undertaking. While writing I had no thought 
whatever of publication ; no idea of an audience 
beyond my own household. The motive was at 
first altogether scientific; and while the work 
soon went beyond the necessary limits of that 
experiment, it did not at the time occur to me to 
subject it to public criticism. I do this now with 
much reluctance, in part because several friends in 
whose judgment I have confidence believe the work 
to have some literary value; but in far larger mea¬ 
sure because I see that it may supply evidence as 
to the effect of scientific pursuits in training the 
constructive imagination, and as to the possibility 
of turning training in natural science to account in 
other fields of thought. 

Although I have paid little attention in this 
poem to the facts of history, I have endeavored 
to keep reasonably near to the truth as regards the 
principal characters depicted, or at least to so 
much of their natures as came into the field of 


xii Preface 

view. The picture of Elizabeth is not that of the 
so-called histories ; but I believe that it is in cer¬ 
tain regards more lifelike than the caricatures of 
the great queen which were shaped in the days of 
her miserable successor. In those of the Cecils, I 
have tried to do some measure of justice to men 
of signal ability whose labors did much to mould 
our English folk. I say that I have endeavored to 
paint with some semblance of truth ; yet it should 
be confessed that it was not with distinct purpose. 

My literary friends who have read this poem 
all assume that it embodies a deliberate attempt to 
write in the manner of the old dramatists. It is 
perhaps well, therefore, to say that there was no 
such purpose in my mind; for within a hundred 
lines of the beginning, — as soon indeed as I felt 
the swing of the verse, — all consciousness of the 
mode of expression disappeared ; then and after¬ 
wards the medium seemed as absolutely my own as 
my mode of conversation. I do not know what are 
the characteristics of Elizabethan dramatic litera¬ 
ture; for beyond the familiar plays of Shakespeare 
I have read nothing of English drama, nor for that 
matter of any like work, except the little that in 
youth one reads while studying the classics or learn¬ 
ing French and German. If there be any tincture 


Preface xiii 

of the Elizabethan speech in these lines, it is to be 
charged to the fact that I once knew some por¬ 
tions of Shakespeare’s plays by heart, and have 
been imbued with the English version of the Bible, 
misnamed King James’s, but really of Elizabeth’s 
time. To the account should also go my youth 
spent among people in Kentucky and Virginia who 
retain much of the spirit and the language of the 
Tudor period. If there had been in my mind any 
imitative design, it would certainly have checked 
me at every turn ; for I have always found that 
any effort to shape my thought or action in that 
way brings me to a halt. 

If there is any imitation in the following pages, 
it has been unperceived by me: I do not know 
whom I have imitated. While there has been no 
conscious effort to shape this romance on any 
model, I note in proof-reading that there are seve¬ 
ral instances where phrases occur which the reader 
will recognize as borrowed. I have allowed them 
to stand, for the reason that as they were not 
recognized as quotations when they were written, 
to expunge them would diminish the value of the 
matter as evidence. Moreover, it seems to me 
that phrases such as I have unconsciously copied 
are not mere words but real units of speech. In 


xiv Preface 

one instance, in the processional scene in the last 
act of The Coronation, I have introduced some 
rhymed lines taken from a contemporary account 
of that pageant. As quotation marks are out of 
place in a play, I have left this extract unindicated ; 
it will however, be readily identified. 

I have been much interested in the comments 
of several men of letters who have read this 
poem in manuscript and have recommended vari¬ 
ous changes. I have profited by the counsel of 
these friends in two regards: to Professor George 
H. Palmer I am indebted for advice which has led 
me to reduce the matter by at least one third; and 
to Mr. C. N. Greenough for comments which 
have helped me to mend many bad lines. Except 
for these changes the text stays essentially as it was 
written. My efforts to better certain parts in a 
deliberate way proved futile ; so that my choice 
lay between considering the experiment finished in 
private to my personal satisfaction, or publishing 
its method and its result. Against my inclination, 
but in accordance with the judgment of friendly 
experts, I give my experiment publicity. 

That I could not have done any such imaginative 
work in my youth my early essays distinctly prove. 
It therefore appears to me clear that the capacity 


Preface xv 

has been developed by labors which though relat¬ 
ing to the external world are essentially akin to 
those of the dramatist. Both alike train the con¬ 
structive imagination in the art of building the 
memories of things observed into new images. 

I hope that my venture in this publication may 
induce other students to make like explorations of 
their unknown powers. If their experience is as 
fortunate as mine, they will, after overcoming the 
initial repugnance to the unaccustomed task, find 
in it a singular pleasure. When the imagined per¬ 
sonalities are shaped into substantial beings, they 
become companions so engaging that it is with 
regret akin to sorrow that they are sent back into 
shadow, — into the limbo of things that might 
have been but never were. 


/ 


PROLOGUE 



this ancient hearth we build our 


Of faggots gleaned where ’neath the 
eager strokes 


fire 


Of England’s heroes fell the mighty oaks 
That rose in ships to freight a nation’s ire. 

This is not heart wood ; that went to the seas, 

To sturdy battle in Armada days. 

Or to uncharted shores : yet this will blaze 
The while we drink beloved memories, — 

To memories of men who shaped our might. 

Of women true who bore them, for they bore 
Within their hearts the jewels of all time,— 

The memories of deeds that star-like climb 
Far up the darkened vault of day that’s o’er. 

To send us cheer from out the weary night. 

Fill up the beakers of their noble verse 
With ruddy semblance of the rare old wine 
They quaffed from those fair cups. ’T is but a 


sign, 





Prologue 

A sorry sign, but emptiness were worse. 

Lift up your song, let Echo to us send 
Something for fancy’s weaving to refrain 
Of their far voices; so they come again 
In mocking echo ’t will us glory lend, — 

The glory of full men who swing them free 
As planets in their spaces, without heed 
Of what this dull orb sends of toil or fear, 

The glory that may light these fields now sere 
In sunken sun and winter’s frosty need 
And show our souls the way to liberty. 


DRAMATIS PERSONAE 


Earl of Arundel. 

Earl of Sussex. 

Lord Courtenay. 

Lord Howard. 

Lord Paget. 

Lord Williams of Tame. 

Edmund Bonner, Bishop of London, 

Stephen Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester . 

Sir William Cecil, Secretary of State, 

Sir Henry Bedingfield. 

Sir John Bridges. 

Sir William Petrie. 

Sir Thomas Wyatt. 

Roger Ascham, Tutor of the Princess Elizabeth. 
Physician. 

Robin, a Teoman, 

Hinde, an Armourer, 

South, a Baker. 

Underhill, the c Hot Gospeller.' 
Grandfather. 

Clod, a fester. 

Leader of Mob. 

Executioner. 


Dramatis Personae 


Philip, King of Spain, 

Noailles, French Ambassador, 

Spanish Noble. 

Spanish Ambassador. 

Mary, Queen of England, 

Princess Elizabeth, her sister , afterwards Queen, 
Katherine Ashley, nurse to Elizabeth, 

Grandame. 

Agnes, her daughter. 

Child, daughter of Bridges. 

Courtiers , Gentlemen , Puritans, Officers , Judges , Guards , 
Heralds , Ushers , Shopmen , Soldiers , Sailors , Yeomen , Stew¬ 
ards, Servants , 



The Coronation 


ACT FIRST 

SCENE I 

Entrance to Whitehall Palace. 

Two Gentlemen of the Guard . A throng of 
Spaniards going out . 
ist Gentleman [looking after them ]. 

O with our blessing, so ye come not 
back 

Till true swords claim their right. 

2D Gentleman. Amen to that; 
Our seas forget their part when they lend way 
For Spain to England’s shores. 

ist Gent. And our faint hearts 

Shame our dear mother’s faith. When kings 
were here 

This England met her foes upon the sea 
Or smote them at the shore. 





2 


The Coronation 

2D Gent. And now they tramp 

Over this realm they hold with sheathed blades, 
And make its fields to wonder how they lack 
Our bones within their earth. — ’Tis late, yet time 
To strike as men. 

ist Gent. Nay, not yet time that fits. 

For she who is our hope still bids us stay 
With patience ’neath this load. She’s but a lass. 
Yet in her countenance we see our morn 
And in her silence hear a brave command 
Stoutly to wait. 

Enter other Spaniards. 

2D Gent. Here comes another troop 
Fresh from the plundering sea. They come right on 
As they would board a hulk that had been won 
In a fair fight. Stay them until we find 
If ’t is our sovereign’s will that they appear. 

ist Gent. Hold, signiors, ’tis the way unto 
our throne. 

We are its keepers. What would ye of our Queen ? 
Bide and await her will. 

Spanish Noble. ’T is not for ye 

To halt our prince’s servants. Stand aside ! 

We have our bidding there. 

ist Gent. So too have we ; 

An ancient bidding here to have ye stay 


3 


The Coronation 
In manner of our princes fore the throne. 

Waiting the sovereign’s will. 

Spaniard. Away with ye ! 

’T is not for English lackeys thus to bar 
Spain’s messengers. 

ist Gent. We pray you to bide here 

With all fair words, and if they serve not, then 
We ’ll seek more earnestly with prayerful swords. 

[Drawing swords . Spaniards draw; 

they cross swords . 

Enter Usher. 

Usher. The Queen sends greeting to her 
guests from Spain, — 

Bids them to her for better welcoming. 

[Gentlemen salute and stand aside. 
ist Gent. So, so, my friend, give us a little 
time 

And we will learn the art to dance as bears 
Trained on hot iron till they hop right well 
To master’s piping. 

2D Gent. Let them pipe away 

Until the time comes when ’t is theirs to dance. 
ist Gent. God send it soon ! 

2D Gent. Trust to our folk for that 

They ’ll send it surely, haply all too soon. 

For in all work of wisdom there are fools 


The Coronation 


+ 

Who know not that to-morrow is a day 
With right to its own doing ; that a man. 

Ay, mayhap woman, is of deeds the key 
Or picklock of the gate we ’d enter in. 

2 D Gent. See, there is Courtenay. 

/ Nay, it is not he 

Who ’ll open us the port, though well he knows 
This twenty years what ’t is to tug at bars. 

Trust no caged hawk for soaring. We shall find 
A bird that hath the morning for its wings. 

ist Gent. We know where dwells that herald 
of our day. 

2D Gent. And so does he. He hath a cage 
for it. 

Enter Courtenay. 

Courtenay. Good morrow, gentlemen. Who 
is above ? 

ist Gent. My lord, the Spaniards. On such 
pressing need 

They would not bide to wait a summons there 
Until they saw our argument’s sharp points 
And so attended word. 

Court. Came ye to blows ? 

ist Gent. To blows, my lord, with guests ? 
Ah no, we came 

To gentle understanding of our part 



5 


The Coronation 
As doth befit the farer who must steer 
To favour of a throne. 

Court. Yet ye know well 

The need that is upon us while ye bow 
Your necks in patience. 

ist Gent. Ay, my lord, right well. 

This world is full of needs ; but first of all 
Is that our necks and shoulders hold their fit. 

And after that the need for men who know 
What doing is before they forth to do, — 

These are the twins of our necessity. 

Court. Less care for necks and more to serve 
as men 

Would better fit the time. 

Enter Usher. 

Usher. My lord may enter. 

[Courtenay ascends . 
ist Gent. A lumbering ox who bellows like 
a bull. 

He fed well in the Tower, so has waxed 
Unto a lusty splendour, but his soul 
Is a poor starveling. 

Enter Sir Thomas Wyatt. 

2 D Gent. Here’s his other self. 

ist Gent. Ay, other, but not better for the 
task; 


6 The Coronation 

He sees his end and witless goes straight on 
In madcap haste to do it. \To Wyatt.] You 
come pat: 

There’s a new host from Spain who wait above 
Your counsel for the parting of this realm. 

Quick for your share and ours. 

Court. When comes their prince ? 

ist Gent. By token of their ways he’s on the 
sea 

With ships and men enough to bear us down. 

A sennight and ’tis done. 

Wyatt. There ’s time to strike. 

ist Gent. Ay, time enough for men: an 
hour ’s a day, 

A moment hour, to him whose wit and will 
Together speed good purpose. 

Wyatt. The way is plain : 

Our folk will to their arms and they will speak 
From their stout lines so all the world may hear 
Denial of those banns. 

ist Gent. They are but clods 

Until the master shapes them into men ; 

Else they will suffer on. 

Wyatt. They will be led ; 

And they shall have a banner that will flame 
England with valour and knit all men’s hearts 


The Coronation 7 

In love of land and throne. Trust us for that. 

Be ready ; but be still. [Exit Wyatt. 

ist Gent. I trust him not. 

He dreams of Warwick’s deeds, affects the stride 
Of one who bears vast burdens ; yet his load 
Is but a sorry numskull where will hatch 
No profitable deeds. 

2D Gent. What is the chance 

That she may trust in him ? 

ist Gent. Ah, there ’s the knot 

Of all this tangled skein. She’s but a lass. 

An eager maid with fancy for the games 
Men play with wagered heads. She’s quick to 
catch 

All but true meaning of their artful praise. 

They may enmesh her in their clumsy nets 
So that we ask once more how died our hope, 
Knowing that with her falls the last good fruit 
Of the brave Tudor tree. 

2D Gent. You know the plan ? 

ist Gent. Ay, she shall marry with that 
Courtenay 

And Wyatt rule them both. A clumsy plan. 

Well matching with their wits. Yet it may win, 
For he’s Apollo till you ’re through his hide, 

The rest a jaded Bacchus to the heart. 


8 The Coronation 

2 D Gent. There ’s one right near her in whose 
wit she trusts 

With all her race’s skill in trusting men 
For saving help. 

ist Gent. Her brave cousin Howard ? 

2 D Gent. His better, — Cecil. Satan lacks his 
wit 

In matching craft with craft. You know him 
well ? 

ist Gent. A little less than well, for he hath 
played 

Sometimes too clever ; he hath played to win 
When better he had lost. 

2D Gent. Ay, that he’s done, 

And yet we know that to his craft he lends 
Faith to this realm and masterful designs 
Clear of all hungry schemes. His patience waits 
The turn of tide before he shoots the bridge. 

With him for guide mayhap she ’ll find her 
throne 

And spare the shame and ruin that will come 
If madcaps have their way. 

ist Gent. When fares she here ? 

2D Gent. She is upon the way. For now the 
Queen 

Would have folk merry as her lover comes ; 


9 


The Coronation 
She bids her sister by her, for she knows 
What lifts the night from London. 

Enter Gardiner and Underhill. 

2 D Gent. This ground is hot enough, but here 
comes he 

Who stirs the nether fires. 

Gardiner. Say I wait. 

ist Gent. 'T is done, your grace ; our wits are 
lessoned well. 

Your lordship has precedence over all ; 

The usher needs no bidding, — he hath gone. 
Gard. Awhile your wits are quick, you better 
learn 

That tongue of man, though twin unto his neck. 

Is oft neck's sorest foe. 

2 D Gent. Sore truth, your grace. 

Pray say us further where our safety lies. 

You are the master of all ways to win: 

We marvel at your skill that shapes defeat 
To more than victory. 

Gard. Serve ye the Lord, 

Patient, unceasing. Serve that ye may win 
Unto His glory. Else ye are the dust 
'Neath His true servants' feet. Beware your end. 

[Usher leads Gardiner up . 
2D Gent. What doth he know ? 


io The Coronation 

ist Gent. Naught. But it is his way 

To fence him round with fear so none can tell 
What moves him to his deeds. 

2 D Gent. Here ’s Underhill: 

His fire’s from on high, but quite as hot 
As that the others bring us from below. 

Good morrow, Gospeller. What’s the last dose 
We need for our salvation ? 

Underhill. Oh my friends, 

Read in the Book. It is there all plain writ 
How ye go swift upon your way to hell ; 

How this ye keep is but its outer gate, 

And they within the devil’s ministers; 

How she our Queen is rank idolater 
Bowed fore the golden calf; and he who comes 
To wed her unto darkness brings the seal 
Of our damnation. 

ist Gent. This is treason foul, 

Though it be gospel pure. Our Bishop’s word 
Is that the tongue of man may slit his gorge; 
There’s new-born wisdom ’gainst the prophets old 
Who searched the deserts bare to know their Lord, 
And found Him in their valour; ay, he proves 
That tongue is nought for preaching if your wind 
Lacks pipe for playing to it. We’d not lose 
The merry tune you thump us as we go 


The Coronation ii 

Upon our ways of sin, so hold thee still 
Or pound another text, that better fits 
This time and place. 

Und. My master sends me here — 

Chamberlain. Her majesty hath ordered that 
this man 

Come not within her gates, so cast him forth : 

He is an idle hound. 

Und. Know I am here 

To bear his message to this house of sin. 

Here will I take his crown — 

ist Gent. Softly, my man ; 

You ’ll win it soon enough upon the throne 
They ’ll build for you at Smithfield. Now you go, 
Plain preacher, to the street. [Throws him out. 
2D Gent. ’T is not the last of him. 
ist Gent. ’T is but the first, 

For the eternal dwells in his stout heart. 

Those ancient prophets come again to us 
Hungry and gaunt, but with their souls afire. 

Woe to fat priests — 

Chamb. The audience is closed. 

Her Majesty hath bid that ye attend 
This eve the festal for the news from Spain. 

ist Gent. Shall we wear masks to hide our 
eager joy ? 


12 The Coronation 

Chamb. Nay, it is not prescribed. 
ist Gent. Still we should wear 

Each in his manner that which hides him best. 

A sorry thing would be a maskless court 
In the stark nakedness of honesty. 

End of Scene. 


SCENE II 

Study of Elizabeth. 

Elizabeth and Ascham reading from the 
“ Republic .” 

Elizabeth. Good master, this fair plan of per¬ 
fect state 

Was shaped long fore our Christ came to this 
earth. 

Ah, is it but a fancy ? 

Ascham. ’T was so meant. 

’T is but a song to lift the hearts of men. 

Our Plato ne’er had tried to shape a realm 
To his Republic’s frame. Yet he knew well 
How good it is that every one who rules, 

So be it but himself, should feel the beat 
Of the spheres’ music lead his footsteps on 
In ordered going to harmonious deeds. 


The Coronation 13 

You may not shape an empire on this mould, 

But of this spirit make it animate; 

*T is of no time nor place, yet to them all 
It sends their only help — the lofty soul. 

Eliz. Yea, to mine own it brings sore needed 
hope; 

For in a world where men have set so high 
The targets of their thought, we too may send 
The arrows of our fancy towards the sun, 

And if in vain, still have we fairer‘drawn 
Than at some near and momentary aim.— 

But where ’s the help, good master, for this day 
To set us right ? Hast thou in all thy lore 
Found cure for ills that ruin this good realm ? 
That dream is fair, and yet it brings no help 
To our sore need. 

Ascham. Nay, this is still unread 

Unto your soul. True, it will never heal 
The wounds of sorry days, but it will give 
To all who fare with it the heart to fare 
Alight with knowledge. — See, we have read here 
As in all holy writ, that ’t is our part 
To meet what comes with soul that stays above 
The momentary deed. There is the master’s place ; 
The other is the slave’s, who bends beneath 
The load fate lays upon him, and so dies, 

A very slave to death. 


The Coronation 


14 

Eliz. Ah, now I see 

Whereto the sages lead, where I would bide 
With you, dear master, till my task is done. 

Stay with me for good help. 

Ascham. That may not be 

For those who hold an empire bide alone 
E’en if their mastered realm be but themselves. 
The mentor shows the way, then goeth on, 
Rejoicing when he sees himself forgot. 

Yet living with the soul of noble deeds 
He helped to shape for action. 

Eliz. Be it mine 

To keep thy memory and send thyself 
As sower to our fields. 

Ascham. That waits new moons 

For its fair chance, my princess. Fore you now 
Is what will make our journeys be forgot; 

Or serve in memory as things that were 
Within another world. Strive yet to hold 
The sight of heroes who have faced the truth 
Where’er it led. They are our guiding stars; 
They stay above us, waiting till we come, 

If we have trod their way. 

Enter Chamberlain, who waits . 

Eliz. There would I go, 

But here’s a summons to another way 
That leads not up to them. 


The Coronation 15 

Ascham. All ways tend there 

If we look high ; all else lead to the pit. 

We shape all heights and depths in our own souls 
For wings or weary feet. 

Eliz. [to Chamberlain]. What brings you 
here ? 

Chamb. The bidding of the Queen that you 
will grace 

Her festival that waits your coming long. 

Eliz. Farewell, good master. We have strayed 
o’er far 

With the immortals. Back now to the dead, 
How long to tarry there God’s will must tell. 
Ascham. Remember that they wait. 

Eliz. Ah, I have heart 

To do their bidding, though I am all fear. 

[Turns with Chamberlain. Ascham 
bows his head upon the book. 

Chamb. Your grace is clad in black. 

Eliz. Yea, it is fit, 

Fit as the day it matches. So we ’ll in 
To trip this measure with our weary feet, 

And singing wait the echo that may come. 

End of Scene . 


i6 


The Coronation 


SCENE III 

Throne Room of Whitehall Palace. 

Queen and Court . Enter Elizabeth, who bows 

before Queen. 

Queen. Whom have we here clad in these 
widow's weeds ? 

God's grace! It is our sister in a shroud 
To shame our festival ! 

Elizabeth. My liege, I came 

Straightway from ancient kings: before their thrones 
I've sought the grace to stand beside your own. 
They questioned not my garb. But I 'll away 
And deck to your command. 

Queen. Nay, keep you so : 

Thus all may see this token of your will 
To scorn our love and bide from us apart 
E'en in our joying for the best God sends. 

Yea, we would have your raven's heart appear 
In its true colour so that all may read 
What wary speech tells not, of treason's will 
That moves our sister. 

Eliz. Oh dear sister, read 

Deeper than that and see the heart that bleeds 
For thee and for this land. 


The Coronation 17 

Queen. Again that note 

Of mimicked woe that mocks our service true 
To land and faith. ’T is a Cassandra cry 
That none will heed. 

Eliz. So ’twas her hapless part 

In vain to cry the peril that she saw, 

Knowing that none would heed. Oh, let me go 
Where it may vex you not. 

Queen. Nay, bide you here. 

And we will bear our cross as best we may. 

[Elizabeth bows and turns away. 
Court. [to Eliz.]. Our cousin is not merry in 
her part. 

On her the monarch smiles not. 

Eliz. Ah, Courtenay, 

Were I fed but on smiles I should be lean. 

Seem I a starveling ? 

Court. Nay, never a prince 

Stood braver in his peril than you stay 
Robed in this token of your love for us. 

Dear banner of our hearts. 

Eliz. ’T is inky black, 

Suited to sorrow, not to be a flag. 

Wyatt. Yet ’t is the fittest banner for the 
land: 

In it our folk will see their true heart’s love 


18 The Coronation 

Who grieves with them, — whom they would make 
so glad 

With all their realm can give. 

Eliz. What riddle this ? 

My sovereign sister saw but now a shroud 
In these dull weeds. 

Wyatt. Wait and good time will read 

This riddle’s meaning. Ah, full well you know 
What you are to our people. If you doubt, 

Find in your heart the love that you bear them ; 
Theirs is but hearty answer to your own. 

Eliz. Yea, they are dear to me, and I must 
mourn 

With them forlorn, but need to speak my heart 
In empty signs. 

Wyatt. Ah, this wide land shall hear 

You braved it thus to tell them what they know, 
Yet love to catch again. Trust them to go 
Where’er you lead : your sorrow is their joy, 

Their only help. Ah, princess, ne’er a king 
Held heart of people as you England’s hold, 
Lamenting for them fore the Tower’s gate. 

[Elizabeth is silent . Chamberlain 
approaches . 

Chamb. The Queen commands your grace 
shall lead the dance. 


The Coronation lg 

Wyatt. We see you read our riddle. 

Eliz. Nay, I shape 

Harder for asking. But there is not time 
For more of badinage, so fare you well. 

[Elizabeth goes to throne. 
Court. [aside\ . We shall fare well, for we shall 
fare to you. 

Queen [to Court.]. Our sister leads the dance, 
as next the throne. 

We hail the coming of a strength to stay 
This land in might, — to save it from all foes. 
That it may dwell in peace the ages on; 

So let your measures and your song speak joy. 

Eliz. [chanting in the dance \. 

Tou bid us dance, O Queen, — 7 is a sad measure 
Our feet must tread . Alas, there is no cheer 
Within our hearts to beckon us to pleasure, 

For all our days are drear . 

You bid the lark go hail the day that y s flying ; 

He answer sends, he sings but to the morn . 

You bid us merry be beside the dying 
This night hath made forlorn . 

Send us the day , 0 Queen, a day to lighten 
The sorrows of our folk, and we will sing 


20 The Coronation 

Its morning with the lark . T is thine to lighten 

Our long nigh!s sorrowing . 

Send us the day thy true heart deeply treasures , 

Beat down the bars that part thee from thine own , 

Give us dear hope to tread in joyful measures 
A festal by thy throne . 

Send us the day , O £>ueen , for we are dying; 

Hard by your house the demons delve our graves . 
ifuick ! for these sands of life are swiftly flying . 

Be thine the hand that saves . 

[Elizabeth kneels before Queen. 
Queen. Ah, madam, you have found the way 
to strike 

Straight to our heart and safely, for you smite 
But at our joy, — the first that God hath sent 
Unto our weary life. 

Eliz. Hear me, my queen, — 

Dear sister, hear ; I Ve smote thee but to save. 
Taking the wound myself before ’t was given 
And knowing well the peril that it brings. 

Alas! you named me by that hapless maid 
Whose fate it was to see her kindred’s doom 
Shape in the spaces, and to know her wail 
Would nothing help. Yet I must send my cry. 


The Coronation 


2 I 


The faithful subject and the sister spoke 
In sorry hope of hearing. 


Queen. 


So all hear, 


And through them to my realm your cry may 


go; 


Yea, ’t was well planned. 

Eliz. Alas! ’t is clear Cassandra’s fate is mine. 
Queen. Whate’er thou art, — the torment of 
this land, 

The spring of hate and treason that flows on 
In swelling tide to whelm its ancient throne, — 
Would I could part the kinsman’s tie that binds 
Our lives together, so that this might end 
E’en as it should, in justice. I have borne 
The half of thee I hate for that I love, — 

Thy mother for thy father. Aye, ’t is she 
Who died a traitor to all ties that bind 
Woman to faith, who lives in these foul deeds. 
Eliz. What proof, O Queen, could you rack 
from my heart 

Surer to show that I am to your throne 
Still faithful subject ? for I patient bear 
This shame from it, and in my torment turn 
To it alone for help. 


God help us here, 


Queen. 


For in thy face and voice thou art a child. 


22 


The Coronation 

Pure innocence. But in thy train behold 
Creeps every hound that hungers for our state. 

Go to thy closet. I must ask of Him 
Where lies my duty, for my eyes are blind. 

[Exit Elizabeth. Gardiner approaches . 
Gardiner. My liege, you see now how she 
plays her game 

Of faith to cloak her treason. Fore your throne 
She is your loyal sister who doth plead 
Your subjects' wrongs. Elsewhere she plans with 
them. 

[.Pointing to Courtenay and Wyatt. 
This treason prospers. Shall it have its end 
And that full soon ? 

Queen. My lord, all is not told 

In thy brief story. I begin to doubt 
If’t is so plain as you have set it me ; 

For in her words I seem to hear the moan 
Of my dear folk. I see their hands upheld 
In plea for mercy, and I am their Queen. 

Gard. It is but clever acting,—fore the stage 
You feel like sorrow— know it empty show. 
Queen. Not in the heart as here. She loves this 
land 

With Tudor love. Whatever else be foul. 

That cry is pure ; it goeth to my soul, — 


The Coronation 23 

As word of God I cannot pass it by 
Upon the other side. 

Gard. ’T is well you turn 

Thus in your doubting to the word of God : 

It bids ye go unswerving to the goal. 

Know that He sendeth woe unto this world 
To lash with pain and death the recreant throng, 
That from their ruin nobler may arise 
To be His servants in a bettered age. 

And shall the princes whom He bids to lead 
Turn in the way He sets because they see 
The sinners writhe beneath His chastening strokes ? 
If they so fall, it is to deepest hell. 

Beyond His might to save. 

Queen. And if they stay. 

They still are in that depth, for there I lie 
With all of torment that my soul can hold. 

Ah, my Lord Bishop, it is ill with us. 

Gard. So doth He try His servants and await 
The proof that they are His. So too did He 
As mortal man cry while upon His cross. 

Yea, at the gate of heaven so cried He. 

Queen. Your words do numb the pain ; that I 
will bear 

As best I may: feed on the hope that’s left, 

A poor and shrunken thing, but all that stays 


The Coronation 


24 

To keep my soul from starving. Fare you well ; 

I ’ll think of what to do. Aye, I will pray 
If there be faith for that, so that my prayer 
Go not to echoless and empty air. [Exit. 

Gard. Ah, but that witch, that witch ! She 
hath undone 

My doing of long years, — with easy hand 
Swept at a stroke the board. Why saw I not 
The master’s spirit wax within the child 
To seize on it for service. ’T is too late ! 

They have her firm. They play her for the game. 
With her they ’ll mayhap win. So it must be ; 
Yet ’t is a pity, for there never came 
A king so fit to reckon with this land, 

With wit and craft to see brave doing done 
As hath this jade. O Lord, Thou hardly dealst 
With Thy true servants, giving but the chance 
Of shaken dice when we with devils match 
For this fair realm. [Exit. 

End of Scene. 


The Coronation 


25 


SCENE IV 

Ante-Room in Whitehall. 
Courtenay, Wyatt. 

Court. Her spirit knows no jess, and so away 
She soared into the sky, and what a pounce 
She made upon her quarry ! Hast thou seen 
Swoop like to that ? 

Wyatt. I see it may bring ills: 

We ’ll have to reckon with the flag we bear. 

For if it sends such thunderclaps to sky 
We know not what may next. 

Court. She’s but a maid, 

And we are men she honours. In that time, 

With clash of arms about her she will lend 
Her spirit to our will. The only fear 
Is that yon holy sinner may divine. 

Saw you his eyes the while she sang her song ? 

A score of devils danced a jig in them ; 

And yet the knave adored her cleverness. 

He is a mitred gamester, and he plays 
A shrewd hand for his Lord. 

Wyatt. We must play swift. 

Give him no time wherein to set his game. 

He ’ll doubt a day awaiting on the Queen. 


26 The Coronation 

The princess must to Cecil’s ; there she’s safe, 

In his good warding safer, for he knows 
Naught of our plans; he dwells within the moon. 
Our couriers shall forth to set the fire 
In every field where we have laid our trains. 

The swiftest to the north, that Robin’s men 
May join with those of Kent. 

Court. Old Robin Hood ? 

Wyatt. Aye, Robin of the wood, — they call 
him, ‘ Come again.’ 

Court. Whence is he ? 

Wyatt. Ask the wood : we know him strong 
And with his host of quarterstaffs a king, 

Save that he is not hungry for himself; 

So we may trust him, — aye, by him we stand. 
The rest we have are rabble from the towns 
Or like from near-by fields to shame our task. 

His staves and hearts are oak, — they must be here. 
Else we shall fail. 

Court. Say not that we shall fail 

Save this or that of chance. We must not fail. 

Wyatt. So be it said if sweeter to your ear, 
But I need reckon hard who count my head 
In such addition. 

Court. Yet I share with you. 

Wyatt. Aye, share the victory : you are to stay 


27 


The Coronation 

Trusted within these walls until the stroke. 

You are safe friend until to be the foe 
Is to draw sword upon a field that’s won. 

Court. I like not safety thus without its price. 
Wyatt. Mayhap good time will sweeten it to 
you. 

Let us to work, so this November dark 
May be but eve of May. When our stout host 
Roars at these gates a hail that sets ye king, 

Make ready for it with an answering blow. 

She shall be with us, and the waited day 
Set ye beside her on this empty throne. — 

There is a goal to fire the heart of man. [They part. 
Court, [aside]. The knave hath named no 
price ; he reckons it 
Without his host. He is a sorry knave. 

Half mad with hate of what he hardly knows 
And hungry without wit to fill his maw. 

We ’ll let him play the Warwick for a day. 

Wyatt [aside]. Aye, to fire true man’s heart, 
but not the dough 

That holds heart’s place within that sodden hulk. 
We’ll keep him sconced where he can lead no rout, 
For then he’d charge like Caesar. Yet he’ll serve 
To be the pawn we ’ll queen to win our game. 
End of Scene. 


28 


The Coronation 


SCENE V 

Whitehall Palace. 

Elizabeth meets Noailles on stairs leading from 
ballroom . 

Noailles [to Eliz.]. I ’m grieved, your grace, to 
see you thus borne down : 

This time hath brought sore trouble to your heart 
With threat of ills to come. 

Elizabeth. Ah, sir, it hath ; 

Yet with your greeting help, if ’t is no more 
Than words that tell another knows as we 
What our days lend of sorrow. 

Noail. He who gives 

No more than words doth go the neighbour by 
Upon the other side. I would not pass 
With empty speech to leave you in your need. 

Eliz. Samaritan, what service can you lend ? 
You from another realm that’s half our foe’s 
When in our host of nobles none dare stand 
Between me and my fate. 

Noail. There is my strength ; 

For those who would help here know that their 
holds 

Can never lend you safety, — that their swords 


29 


The Coronation 

If drawn for you would turn upon your life. 

But in my master’s court none dare assail 
The guest so welcomed as you would be there 
Where you would bide as heir'of kindred realm, 
Sister of France and Britain’s queen to be, 

Awhile you knit them firm to amity 
No strife could ever rend. Here you are doomed 
Mayhap this very hour; that villain priest 
With all his mighty craft sets on your life. 

He has the throne, the law, the church, the state, 
Firm in his cruel hands. Ah, if he wins, 

Out goes the light and hope of your fair land 
That waits you as its saviour. Thenceforth’t is 
Another Holland ’neath the heel of Spain. 

Eliz. But I doubt — 

Noail. Doubt not, for there is hostage of our 
truth: 

Our life demands you come unto this throne 
With all in your good heart we can bestow 
Of friendship that may send us fair return. 

Eliz. Ah, ’t is a chance that gives me breath 
again, 

But I must ponder it. 

Noail. Nay, princess, come. 

Forelooking how’t would fall, I’ve built the way 
Straight on from here and now. Near by this 
gate 


30 The Coronation 

A boat is ready and a ship in stream ; 

The night is fair; there’s wind to bear us swift. 
Your women wait. Brave gentlemen of France 
Are there to do you service with their swords, 

If chance there be of good death for your sake. 
Ere break of day your danger will be o’er. 

And all hereafter days befit your youth 
As these you suffer fit to weary age 
That asketh but the end. Come, — as we stay 
Each moment hath its peril. 

Eliz. Yet none new; 

So long I ’ve been thus hunted, — spied so long 
In eyes of men and other fields of dark 
To catch my danger, that fear f s in me dead 
As you say in the old. Still it is good 
To dream a moment of a hold thus true, 

Where I were sure of waking in this world 
And not in some far next. 

Noail. Aye, you shall have 

Better than dreams in merry court of France, 

For there we ’ll crown you wit and beauty’s queen 
And bid you rule our hearts. 

Eliz. It must not be. 

Samaritan, this wayfarer must bide 
Here where her days have brought her, mid her folk, 
Sharing their dangers, — if so be, their death. 


The Coronation 31 

Should she fare hence for safety, where ’s the ship 
That could bring back the freight it bore away 
Of fellow trust and heartache ? Touch of sea 
Would part those cobweb cables that us bind 
As children of this land, whate’er our state 
Of prince or pauper, suffering alike 
With hands joined by our graves. 

Noail. Dear princess, hear ! — 

Eliz. Nay, I have heard ye. Now I hear the 
cry 

Of a great host, — the people of this land. 

It stifles ears for else. My lord, farewell; 

You ’ve builded a fair niche within my heart 
Close to its altar. There I ’ll keep those days 
That might have been in hospitable France 
With your name writ beneath. Such gifts are 
rare,— 

Aye, rarer than if they were ta’en in hand 
For gross appointment and the frets of use. 

[Elizabeth goes down the stairs. 
Noail. Ah, she is brave and wise. Shame on 
a realm 

That hunts such queen to death. 

End of Act First . 


ACT SECOND 

SCENE I 

Street in London. 

Shopmen on either side talking across the way from 
windows above their barred doors . Fighting rabble 
in the distance . 

Armourer Hinde. 

O, Master South, how fares it this fair 
morn ? 

South. So as it seems with ye, good 
Master Hinde. 

A thriving trade we have as yesterday. 

How long think ye this rabble throng will hold 
The rulers of our town ? 

Hinde. Until we stand 

And set our lass above them. See the men 
Who lead that rabble, — they are Philip’s crew. 
Ah, there they break our neighbour’s doors and 
snatch 

His store into the street. We ’ll have our turn : 
These wolves are hungry ; so are we for that. 







The Coronation 33 

South. We ’ll toss you bread : how many men 
have you ? 

Hinde. A score of empty bellies; for my 
smiths 

Bide with me, waiting for the chance to show 

How good our pikes and pieces; but they ’re 
starved 

By this two days of siege. 

South. Catch as we toss. 

[Tosses loaves across street. 

Now match our giving with your nimble pikes; 

My lads have armed them with their rolling-pins. 

They ’ll shape some fit for baking there below. 

But pikes are surer. We will have account 

When we have reckoned with these plundering 
dons. 

Quick ! they ’re upon us. 

Hinde. Take these, as I pass. [Passes pikes. 

Stout hands will send them through the best of 
mail. 

If they set on ye, we will forth on them. 

Do ye the like for us; aye, they shall dance 

To merry tune we ’ll play them. Here they are. 

[Mob halts before shops. 

Leader of Mob. Here’s arms, there’s bread ; 
so are the saints with us. 


34 The Coronation 

Hinde. So too are divers sinners, as ye ’ll find. 
They ’ll save ye need of shriving ’fore they ’re 
done. 

]Mob breaks doors of baker . Hinde’s and 
South’s men forth upon them , but are 
overborne . 

Enter band of countrymen led by Robin. 

Robin. Make ready, lads, they are the dons we 
seek 

Who hound our England’s lass. The leaders first 
Who wear the helms,—they are King Philip’s 
men. 

A whack upon their backs will serve the rest; 
They ’ll squeak like rats at nip of our good staves 
And hie them to their holes. Have at it, now! 

\Stavemen charge mob and fell the leaders . 
The rabble fly . 

H inde. That was good help, my master ; we 
were few 

To set against their many clad in mail. 

But for your coming they’d have pressed us hard. 
Take of our arms and fit ye for what comes. 

Robin. Nay, ye had done it with good oaken 
staves: 

The pike is well enough for ordered lines, 

But in the medley all the room for swing 


35 


The Coronation 
Is well above the bonnets. That is free 
For good down stroke that never mail can fend 
From telling knave a man knocks at his door; 

He needs no later summons in this world. 

[Turns over a dead man in armour. 
Hinde. He is a don,—at least he wears their 
gear. 

It is well made. I ’ll hang it for a sign 
Of like good arms to fit on better men 

[Stripping the dead man s arms. 
And token of good help ye lads did bring. 

What sent ye here so patly in our need ? 

Robin. We ’re here to seek our lass; to set her 
Queen 

’Gainst this misrule of robbers packed from Spain, 
’Gainst Pope and devils from beyond the sea. 
Hinde. Aye, that would we, but for her will 
that stands 

’Twixt wish and doing. Still the maid says no 
To all our praying that she bid us forth. 

We’d spare her asking were our heads alone 
The price to pay for missing. But her own 
Shares chance with ours. — Ah, never yet a man 
Stood bravelier than she for folk and land. 

’T would shame our death to loose the axe on 
her. 


36 The Coronation 

Robin. Ye townsfolk pother with the work of 
men. 

We ’re here to show you short way to the deed. 

South. Go see the Tower ; break your staves 
on it. 

Try its stout guards, our brother Englishmen, 

So ye will know the doing that ye hail. 

Hinde. Master, our hearts are with ye, and our 
hands 

Wait but her time and for the men to lead. 

Robin. All days are good for venture such as 
we 

Have here afoot; and God hath sent the men 

To be our leaders — Wyatt and Courtenay. 

Hinde. Aye, they be lords of name, yet they 
will lead 

No men who search them, and who prize their 
heads 

As more than chimney-pots in winter’s gale. 

Cheap dancers they who have no heart for deeds 

We’ll have to do, ’fore she comes to her own. 

Robin. Dancers be they ! We ’ll set their steps 
for ye, — 

It is right merry measure. — Ho, my lads ! 

These townsmen wait a lesson from the land. 

Show how those fare who are nor hot nor cold; 


The Coronation 37 

Drum Wyatt’s march upon their empty pates; 

Up with your staves and whack them till they’re 
sore! 

[,Shopmen run to houses . Enter Queen’s 
guards, who contend with countrymen but 
are driven back . Robin’s men walk 
away , singing . 

SONG 

O Robin , come again , the wood , 

The field , the brook , all pine for thee; 

The lass is peeping from her snood , 

The lad is spying far for thee , 

The lark doth higher climb to see 
Where day doth bring his promise good 
When Robin comes again. 

O Robin , come again , thy land 
Doth sorrow for thy goodly cheer , 

For thy brave face and waking hand 
This winter when its fields are sere . 

O Robin , <2// our hearts are drear; 

Come help us with thy mighty wand\ 

O Robin , come again . 

EW ^ 


38 


The Coronation 


SCENE II 

Street in Smithfield. 

Men, women, and children . Guards leading a woman 
to the place of execution. 

Child. See, Granny, there be more than yes¬ 
terday. 

Go all our friends away so white and sad 
With guards to keep the folk from speech with 
them ? 

Grandmother. Yea, child, so go we all if ’t is 
His will, 

So must we go if He should us forget. 

Child. See, Granny, how that old man totters on. 
Ah ! now he falls and bleeds : they lift him up ! 

[To Grandfather. 

Ask that he stay with us and rest awhile. 

Grandfather. He’s near his rest, my lad; 
now he must on 

Where Christ will give him help we cannot give: 
His God awaits him there in yonder field. 

[Grandfather sees woman with child in 
arms in cart; he seizes his wife and strives 
to thrust her into the house . She shrieks 
and falls. 


The Coronation 39 

Woman. Alas! it is their Agnes with her babe. 
She gives it suck. She sees us not, she looks 
Unto the Lord. See how it tugs her breast. 
Child. Mother, mother! 

[Runs to her , is thrust back by guard. 
Mother looks wearily at him and then 
straight away. 

Grandfather. O God, O God, art Thou above 
us still ? [ Stumbles after the procession. 

End of Scene. 


SCENE III 

Place of Execution. 

Grandfather clasping hand of woman bound to 
stake. 

Agnes. Bear with this, father, bear it for 
Christ’s sake. 

Bear it for mother and for this poor child. 

[Kisses child and gives it to father. 
’T is but the woe it gave me when it came; 

I take my pains again for our dear Christ. 

O God, be with me in this torment sore. 

[Is wrapped in the flames. Grandfather, 
clasping child, is thrust away by the Exe¬ 


cutioner. 


40 The Coronation 

Grandfather. My child, my child, alas! our 
God is naught 

And Satan is our master. May he rend 
The Jezebel who lords us, — may the fiends 
Consume her entrails till she prays for death 
To find it but the way to endless woe. 

Scourged on by curses of the folk she swore 
To fend from evil. While she bideth here 
Heap on her soul this agony we bear. 

Poor babe, poor babe, why hath God sent thee 
here 

Out of the darkness to die in this night! 

Executioner. Here is another railing ’gainst 
our Queen. 

Into the flame with him ! There, cast him down * 
Upon the embers where we burned his spawn. 

Enter Robin and men . 

Robin. Smite hard, my lads, smite so that each 
stroke slays. 

Smite home for England’s lass, for God and land. 

[Countrymen strike down the Executioner ; 
the guards fly . 

’T is easy done; the best the devil owns 
Are straw to honest flails if well laid on. 

This bit is finished. We have else to do 
Before these fiends are hurled into the sea. 


The Coronation 41 

We’ll find straightway the road, or else we’ll 
find 

If our dear Christ did ever live and die. 

I ’gin to doubt if there be else than hell.— 

Bear that graybeard and babe, and we will on. 

[Exeunt Robin’s men, singing. 

SONG 

O Robin, come again , thy land 
Doth sorrow for thy goodly cheer, 

For thy brave face and waking hand 
This winter when its fields are sere . 

O Robin, all our hearts are drear; 

Come help us with thy mighty wand , 

O Robin, come again . 

End of Scene . 


SCENE IV 

Room in Cecil’s House. 

Cecil and Howard. 

Howard. Cecil, what should we do in this sore 
plight ? 

You know what is upon us, how our folk 
Are at each other’s throats in throngs that sweep 


42 The Coronation 

The guards like chaff. In from the country 
streams. 

On every road, a host to swell the fray, 

A-shouting they will set her on their throne; 
What should we do ? 

Cecil. The patient part we ’ve done, — 

Wait as the true man doth, and in that deed 
Show more of valour than in aimless blows. 

’T is sore to see this kingdom in the mire 
Of warring creeds while they beyond the sea 
Watch hungering the time on us to spring. 

’T is yet but native ills that men forget, 

So soon their heads be mended and they find 
The wholesome chance to smite an ancient foe. 
There *s else to give us heart, for she our hope 
Waxes the while to splendour of her day. 

Howard. Cecil, thou art the rock in this rude 
sea. 

Cecil. Nay, I ’m no rock, but only shifting 
sand 

That yields to roaring surge, but knoweth well 
The way to bid it spend its might in vain. 

First of our needs is to make sure that she 
Hath no complot with those who seek her fall 
Or those who risk it that they may arise. 

We reckon with a host, a mighty host; 


43 


The Coronation 
See, all about us, how their hungry eyes 
Shine as the tiger’s when all else is dark. 

Count but the nearest, — those whose breath doth 
scorch 

From out their ravined jaws: there’s Gardiner, 
Who hath the hunger none but priest e’er knows 
For boundless power in this realm of earth 
His faith should bid him spurn. He is a man, — 
What of him is not fiend, — with all the might 
A matchless will can lend, — yet withal dull : 

His wits will set a trap to trip his heels. 

There ’s Wyatt yoked with folly for his mate 
In Courtenay. We’d welcome them as foes, 

But they are young and fair: aye, there’s evil chance; 
For she may take them to her eager heart. 

Worst of them all, there cometh to her side 
A mighty yeoman from our pregnant earth, 

Who straightway with his flail would break a path 
For her unto our throne ; with him a host 
Of sturdy yokels marching shout the cry 
Of ‘ Courtenay.’ To-morrow we may face 
A living sea to sweep our house away. 

If Wyatt holds him, he will win his end. 

Howard. Who is this rustic ? Who hath sent 
him here ? 

What is the gain he seeks ? 


.44 The Coronation 

Cecil. He ’s not for gain. 

He is a sturdy phantom from our fields, 

From any, every, where, — with purpose sole 
To smite the ills he sees and take his pay 
In the good mintage of his mighty flail. 

Our folk all hail him 4 Robin, come again/ 

Take him for banner, roar on where he leads. 

And reck not of their venture so they die 
In the good sight of him. You know the tale 
Of how the Orleans maid once shook a realm; 

But now it is a man who knows his end 
And hurls him straight at it. 

Howard. What is his end ? 

Cecil. It needs not to be told ; you hear it there 
From shouting thousands in our London streets, 
Mad with the hate of creed. Had they their 
way 

The morrow would to us hell’s torment bring, 

And every thorp and town in this fair land 
Would be as France with blood at every door. 
Think of it, Howard, how in times to come 
They ’ll tell that while we men of fair pretence 
In statecraft wrung our hands, a brutal throng 
Swept over us to desecrate this throne. 

’T is little that we perish in the deed ; 

’T is much to have this writ above our graves. 


The Coronation 45 

Howard. Aye, we are men and know ’t is but 
a stroke, 

A moment’s spin of wits, and then — what else 
We know not, but would chance it as our sires. 

But in their doing they did more than die 
And left else than their bones. Theirs was the 
task 

To delve and plant, and build of knaves a wall 
To shelter honesty from killing winds.— 

Too long we spin our speech, for ’t is your way 
O’ermuch to preface doing. What’s the plan ? 
Cecil. Words help to wits, my lord: your 
wall of knaves 

Doth give us clue. We will bestow our foes 
To win us vantage : we ’ll contrive to set 
Wyatt and yokel Robin so they ’ll pull 
As Dick and Devil in this tug of war, 

Trusting the honest churl to trip the rogue 
And both to win us time, this blessed time, 

That becks the wise man to good safety’s way. 
Howard. Faith, a brave plan such as the play¬ 
wright makes 

Who bids his puppets dance at pull of cord ! 

These on our stage are men. 

Cecil. We grant them strong, 

And yet the surer to the mastering hand 


46 The Coronation 

Who knows the cords of passion. — Wyatt finds 
Our townsmen loath to strike. They bar their 
shops 

And send rude greetings forth to every hail. 

His chance is with the rabble, who are nought 
But tongues and heels, and with our yeomen folk 
Who ’ll do their clumsy dying as they ’re bid 
By their stout leader. So to win that host 
He needs to set our princess in his lines. 

If fair words win he will her speak most fair. 

If hap they fail he ’ll chance a ruder way: 

He reckons her a doll that he may lift 

Upon his saddle-bow as he rides on 

To play the Warwick with our Tudor throne. 

We know where that move leads, — we’ll give 
him check. 

Howard. ’T is a fine gambit, yet the game is 
his 

If he have Robin’s host. 

Cecil. ’T is his but half: 

For that good fellow seeks him not; he comes 
From out the land with faithful host to greet 
Their England’s love and set her on their throne. 
Now to him she’s a saint, before her eyes 
He will bow down her lover and yon knave 
Will have our yokel ’twixt him and his goal: 


47 


The Coronation 

This I will compass ; thine the harder task 
To shape it that the queen be not o’erborne 
By Don and Devil till she yield to them 
Her sister’s life her heart holds as her own. 

Ward off the axe, —if needs be with thy sword, 
But better with the heart and tongue of man 
That goeth to the neighbour; hold that edge 
From her fair neck a sennight and we ’ll win 
All that men may from fate for good of men. 
Howard. Ah, you see far and swift: it is a 
plan 

That bids us hope. 

Cecil. Oh, put away dull hope 

And grasp assurance that we win the cast; 

We ’ll win, my lord, if each to other’s true, — 
Not for ourselves but for the land that stays. 
Farewell, each to his task ! The clock hath struck 
for mine. 

Howard. Farewell, my brother, thou hast 
filled my heart 
With thine own valour. 

[Exit Howard. After a moment's wait¬ 
ing, Cecil rings bell . 

Enter Steward. 

Cecil. Go bring me here the leaders of the 
mobs. 


48 The Coronation 

Wyatt and Robin. Find sure way to them. 

Swift in this seeking, for each moment’s dear. 

[.Attendant bows and silently goes forth . 
It is a cruel venture thus to set 
Her dear life in this hazard; yet she lives 
Each hour in hard chance. She ’s safer here, — 
Here as the gage of battle; for she ’ll have 
Her sturdy clods to fend her, who would die 
Right lovingly to have the last of light 
From her dear eyes. 

End of Scene . 

SCENE V 

Room in Cecil’s House. 

Cecil and Attendants . 

Steward. They come, my master ; they are at 
your gate. 

Cecil. Thus is thy service ever swift and sure. 
Go, tell the princess much awaits her here. 

[Exit Attendant . 

Good friends, we bide a trial where our swords, 
Though they be few, may serve a sacred need. 
Draw not until I bid ye — whate’er comes. 

Upon the word strike when I lead the way. 

Enter the Princess Elizabeth. 


The Coronation 4g 

Elizabeth. Thy face hath help, good Cecil, in 
this night: 

See from this lattice far away that flame, — 

The church bells shout to arms, and all the ways 
Are filled with raging thousands. See them whirl 
This way and that as eddies in the sea.— 

Let me be gone to furthest place of earth, — 

Yea, to the grave, so that they 'scape the woe 
This hapless maid brings on their hapless lives. 
Cecil. Nay, princess, nay: these deeds are 
none of thine. 

'T is a wild flame ; it spread from Smithfield’s fires : 
You lit them not, — it will be yours to quench 
Those devil's altars. Hear the throngs that roar 
In mad contending. They reck not of you : 

They fight like fiends because the one believes 
Our Christ dwells in the bread, while other holds 
'T is but a sign of His dear sacrifice. 

This is the ancient custom of our faith. 

'T is of the madness of this villain man : — 

Your name by birthright is a name to shout; 

Were you away't would be some other name. 

Else would it be the scene you here behold. 

Eliz. Ah, Cecil, you read all this world mere 
fate 

And we its puppets. 


50 The Coronation 

Cecil. So it is with men 

Until those come to guide who know the art 
To turn the herds the way that they should go : 
This is thy part, and if ’t is fairly done 
Out of this ruin there will rise a realm, 

A state to bear our English spirit on 
Over the deeps to far-off days and lands. 

Eliz. That is a man’s work. What can woman 
do 

In such a plight but cry unto her God 
To spare her people, spare them with her life ? 
Mine may not know the morrow, for they ’ll 
hold 

This as my doing and make haste to slay. 

Each step affrights me and I watch the walls 
To see them send the message. 

Cecil. You are safe 

So long these good walls guard you and our hearts 
Keep to their pulses. 

Eliz. Yea, here ; but the morn 

Will send me summons to the Tower’s gate: 
King’s children come not forth who enter there. 
Let me die with my people; in their woe 
My life may help them, — woman though I be, 

I am their brave king’s daughter, so their own. 
Cecil. That is an idle fancy; it hath led 


The Coronation 51 

To this extremity our once fair realm. 

So goes a state to ruin when its lords 
Lead forth to ravage in the hope to mend. 

Their part is judgment and the art to turn 
With chieftain’s skill the ever vagrant folk, 

With no step forward till they see the way 
Clear to a kingly purpose. You are here 
The last defence of this unhappy land: 

Forth with those madmen haply you may win 
Usurper’s place upon your sister’s throne, 

Her life upon your head. But if you fail 
Then ’t is the traitor’s gate that shuts on you. 

Ah, I who love you better than dear life 
Would rather see you there than on the throne, 

A shamed usurper in your people’s sight. 

Daughter of kings, it is your part to lead 
And not to follow at a rabble’s heels. 

Eliz. You are my surest prop, and yet you stay 
The bidding of my sires ; their will to do. 

Where cries the need, as now our people cry 
For help that is the warrant of true kings ? 

Cecil. Yea, ’t is for that I do beseech you give 
Help you alone can lend : the purpose firm 
To bear the ills we have as England’s men. 

With you serene above them they ’ll stand firm, 
Who see in you alone of all this world 


52 The Coronation 

Their guiding star. Alas, if you now fall 
We go into the deep. 

Eliz. Would you alone 

Were counsellor, for as you speak ’tis plain 
What I should do. But Wyatt bids me on 
By like appeal. 

Cecil. He is a dastard knave, 

In whose smooth face reflects your noble soul; 
Behind it is the traitor base and cold. 

Who seeks his vantage, caring nought for you, 
Nought for this land,— all for the gauds he’ll 
win 

To deck his state and fame. 

Eliz. Stay, Cecil, stay, 

’T is monstrous thus to shame a noble man 
Who bravely tosses all his youth and hope 
Over the lines that set against this realm. 

Cecil. ’T is a fair venture, beggar that he is, 
To stake his ruined life for such a prize 
As comes to him if he has throned a queen. 

You think him honest ? Good, he waits you here, — 
Waits as the wolf beside the shepherd’s fold. 

Try you his hunger, he will give you proof. 

Eliz. Yea, so I will, that you may have the 
proof 

That he is faithful to this land and throne. 


The Coronation 53 

Cecil. I trust the wisdom of your sires in you, 
And fear not of the issue if the maid 
Forget not that her task is one for man. 

Eliz. Aye, trust me, Cecil, there. I Ve learned 
to know 

The flint of this hard road whereon I tread. 

’T is not in vain, good master, you have set 
This world before me in its sorriness. 

Cecil. God grant it may be yours to show it 
else 

Beyond these days, when you have shaped this realm. 
Make ready for thy way: it will be sore 
But such as true kings tread for folk and land. 

End of Scene . 


SCENE VI 

Great Hall in Cecil’s House. 
Elizabeth, Cecil, and attendants . 

Cecil [to Steward]. Go bid the leaders in: 
the princess waits 

To hear their messages, each with twoscore 
Of their best men. 

Enter Wyatt splendidly attired in armour; after him 
Robin and his men with staves . 


54 The Coronation 

Steward [to Cecil — pointing to Wyatt]. 
These are but sample of the host he brings ; 

The street is full of mounted mail-clad troops; 
Near by one holds a palfrey for a dame. 

Cecil [to Steward]. When words wax high, 
let the portcullis fall 
And haste here with your fellows. 

Eliz. [to Wyatt], Welcome, good Knight; 
ah, you are like the sun 
In fairest morning; sure you bring us day, — 
Good news withal, although you come in arms, 

Of how our people bow as lieges true 
Before their sovereign’s will. 

[To Robin and his yokels. 
And ye, good men, 
From England’s fields are more than welcome 
here, 

For ye bring to me memories of old 

Of the fair round from seed to harvest home. 

I know your message will go to my heart. 

Speak first, Sir Thomas, then I ’ll hear my folk. 
Wyatt. Dear mistress, on thy heart is writ 
the tale 

Of England’s woes that we are here to mend 
As true hearts do it with their willing swords 
When love and faith lead on. Behold these men, 


The Coronation 55 

Ensample of the hosts from town and field, — 
They ’re lean with hunger, but their sorest lack 
Is sight of thy loved face; thy word to do 
Unto their death for thee and for thy realm. 

Eliz. Right nobly said, my friend, — a noble’s 
speech ; 

Ere I give answer let me hear this man : 

Speak, master Robin, tell me whence you come 
And what is in your true heart. 

Robin. Ah, my Queen ! 

Eliz. Nay, not thy queen, my goodman, but a 
maid 

Of this dear land, whose father was thy king. 
Robin. Aye, thou art our own lass. King Harry’s 
child : 

In thee our country folk have known their love 
Since thou wast born. We sorrowed ’t was a lass, 
But now we see the Lord did better know; 

For ne’er a lad had claimed our hearts so well. 

So helped us in our sorrows, oh, so sore. — 

Dear lass, thy folk are troubled. In the fields 
Once rich with corn and kine, the lean wolves 
gnaw 

The bones of starved men or those who fall 
In idle fighting, no one knows for what: 

We came to seek our lass, to pray that she 


56 The Coronation 

Will set this right; but in her London town 

We find the folk a-battling ; in yon field — 

See there the flame flares yet — the devil’s host 
Burn women with their babes and fathers old. 

Are we true men if we live on with this 
While our thews ache to free our weary hearts ? 
Dear lass, what should we do for this sad land ? 
Eliz. Dear lad, God knows. You are my bro¬ 
ther there 

In sorrow for this ravined folk and realm. 

What should we do ? Our Christ alone hath 
told 

In His brave waiting for His Father’s call; 

So we must wait if we would bear His cross. 

Sore are our ills, yet sorer they would be 
If we struck blindly in this midnight time. 

Good Robin, we must even bide the day. 

Sure that our patience is the true man’s part, 

For it is God’s command. 

Robin. We came to hear 

Your will of us. We hoped you’d bid us strike 
To set ye with our hearts in Harry’s place. 

We’ll wait the day you see ; but let us stay, 

A while bide here beside you so we ’re sure 
No harm may come and that we are the first 
To do your bidding when’t is time to do. 


The Coronation 57 

Eliz. Dear lad, your soul’s a castle to mine own : 
Who hath that hold hath safety, whate’er come. 
Bide with and stay me. [Turns to Wyatt. 

Wyatt. Your Knights attend their message, 
now the Knaves 

Have had their full of favour in your speech. 

Eliz. I know. Sir Thomas, in a storm like this 
Not Knight or Knave: yea, but the heart alone 
Doth gauge the man. 

Wyatt. Aye, we are of your mind, 

And welcome these stout yeomen to our ranks 
For our brave morrow. All is fitly planned; 

Our hosts from town and field await the word 
That sends them in my leading ’gainst your foes. 
We ask that you but look upon our men ; 

Your face will bring to them the day they wait. 
Before it’s eve you shall be England’s Queen, 

Safe and with might to mend your people’s woes. 
Eliz. A sorry mending of our woes ’t would 
be 

To slay my sovereign sister, — loose the dogs 

Of never-ending war upon this realm 

To quake as throned treason till I die 

In traitor’s expectation of the fate 

That God and man would send. Away, away ! 

You have my answer spoken to true men; 


58 The Coronation 

Their brave eyes fend me from such treachery. 

Ah, were I fain to go the traitor’s path 
A look on them would shame me to my grave; 
They hunger for God’s, help in right to strike 
As men should, yet they wait for His command. 
Let us stay with them. 

Wyatt. Nay, they go with us; 

We have no falterers here. The time is past 
For all these weak lamentings of the ills 
Your woman’s fancy paints. Hear now our prayer : 
For sake of those who go to death for you, 

Those you have set upon their dauntless way 
With smiles that bade them shape your thoughts 
to deeds, 

Go with us on : your life is bound with ours. 
With all that’s done and all swift morrow brings 
Of fateful action. If we leave you here 
’T will be to give you captive to their hands, — 
Send us without our banner to the fight. 

Eliz. You needs have clearer answer ? Hear it 
now ! 

Would you be ought to me of help to come 
In God’s own time; if in your heart there be 
A loyal purpose by our royal line, — 

Go to your houses; bow to rightful might 
Wherein alone is safety. Go ye now 


59 


The Coronation 
With all my blessing and expectancy, 

Else with my scorn, to spur ye on the way. 

Wyatt. We bid you forth to do what you 
alone 

Of all this realm can do. Lest we may fail 
It is our hapless part to bear you on 
To be a standard such as never men 
Have hailed as they will hail you on this morn. 

See ! there it breaks in happy augury. 

Eliz. Lo, the dawn ! where Smithfield’s fires 
flame up 

In midnight storm ! Go, light your torches there. 
Leave me to pray the Lord that hath forgot 
His servants in their woe. 

Wyatt. You ’ll come, my Queen. 

[Advancing to Elizabeth. 

Eliz. \failing back ]. Away, thou traitor, 

wouldst thou make me slave ? 

Wyatt [seizing Elizabeth]. We are her 
slaves who bear a queen to throne. 

Eliz. Help, my people, help ! 

Cecil [to Wyatt]. Your part is played. It 
was a clever game, 

But you have lost. 

Wyatt [to followers ]. Set these folk aside and 
lift your Queen 


60 The Coronation 

Upon her palfrey. Summon others here! 

Quick, to your work ! 

\Men advance towards Elizabeth. Shouts 
of throng in street; portcullis falls. 
Robin. Ho, men, these varlets scorn our Eng¬ 
land’s lass! 

Now for hard hitting ! 

[Robin’s men sweep Wyatt’s from hall 
and chase them away. 

Eliz. \clinging to Cecil]. Ah, you have saved 
me from the very pit. 

Fore me are deeps, but none so black as that 
Where I was like to fall. How have I come 
To be so bound unto yon villain crew 
That they have dared to this ? God’s name be 
praised 

That true men stood beside me while I planned, 
Poor fool, to save a kingdom with my dreams. 
Cecil. Dear maid, it is sore lesson of sore 
world 

This brings to you. It tells the troubled way 
That princes tread, — whereon you have to go 
Wide eyed and watchful to far destiny. 

It is the first step on that pilgrimage 
Leading to other perils. They’ll be sore, 

Yet this doth herald safety. Be ye brave 


The Coronation 6i 

With them as here. Stand as ye stood, 

A king in trial, so it will be well. 

Eliz. I have that lesson. ’T is an age ago 
That robber clutched me. Ah, how I have 
changed! 

See if my hair be grey, my forehead seamed, 

My body bent with years. 

Cecil. Nay, thou art fair. 

Eliz. Ah well, they lie who tell us that our 
face 

Sets record of the soul, for I Ve waxed old. 

With you, good Cecil, I will play the game 
As you its master. 

Cecil. Nay, my princess, nay, 

These games are not for you. ’T is yours to move 
With all the might that doth commend the king. 
But this is ended ; now you must away; 

These knaves are checked, but they will play it out. 


End of Act Second . 


ACT THIRD 

SCENE I 

Whitehall Palace. Roar of Battle 
outside. 

The Queen, Philip, Officers. 

Philip. 

W is it at the gates, — do they hold 
firm? 

ist Officer. So far there seems no 
hazard that they fall; 

The rebels push the fight, but are ill led, 
Yet numbers count well for the work they ’d do. 
Philip. Whence come their men ? 
ist Officer. They are most of the town : 
Rapscallions, Shoreditch knaves, unfit for war 
Save that their will is good. 

Philip. Where are the hinds 

We heard come from the fields ? By the Lord’s 
grace 

They set not on us ; that were other tale. 

Enter Messenger , a soldier . 

Whence are ye? 







The Coronation 63 

2D Officer. Sir, I come from scouting out 
The rebels’ host. 

Philip. What tale of men have they ? 

2D Officer. Mayhap three hundred score of all 
their arms 

And six great cannon, — they ’re full thrice our 
force 

And Satan for their side. 

Philip. We have the saints 

To stay us in our faith. 

2D Officer. Haply we’ve there 

The help of sinners who swing lusty swords 
And set their faith in them ; vile heretics 
With treason in their mouths, but in their hearts 
The loyal spark that springeth swift to flame 
At breath of treachery. They hold our front 
Each as a rock that roareth at the sea 
And smites it back, how fierce it may assail. 

Saints had not served so well. But we must forth. 
Now comes the last assault, — pray ye the Lord 
May stay these mighty sinners for the shock 
Or shrive us for our going. 

End of Scene . 


64 


The Coronation 


SCENE II 

Street before Palace Gate. 

Huddle of Guards and knot of Puritans led by the Hot 
Gospeller. Enter ist and 2D Officers. 

ist Officer [to Gospeller]. Ho, Roundhead, 
you ’ve odd fancy for this gate. 

Last year we cast you forth it. Here you stay 
To do like service on your friends who come : 
Egad, ye bother wits. 

Gospeller. Yea, thou wilt find 

The Lord hath set us keepers of His doors 
And bids us cleanse them. ’T is yon rabble’s turn; 
Thou bidest for thine own till the hour strikes 
In His good time. 

2D Officer. See, there they drag their guns 
To set against this gate; their shot will sweep 
To the Queen’s chamber— [To skulking guards ] 
Ho, ye men of arms. 

Here is fair place to die. 

Guardsman. Nay, we are few ; 

We’d die for nought. 

ist Officer [to Puritans ]. Stay us, ye true men, 
now: 

Ye are what bides of England ; charge with us 
To die ere this shame’s done. 


The Coronation 65 

Gospeller. Nay, let them on ; 

’T will save our breath in going if they 're near. 
The gate will fend their first round, ere the next 
We’ll find God’s will with them. \To meri\ 
Kneel ye and pray: 

Ye’ll better scape their shot. When they have 
loosed 

Do Gideon’s work on them ; but not in rage, 

For they be brothers, we His servants here. 

Down, for they fire. 

\All kneel , Gospeller the foremost . Guns 
fire and gates fall . Puritans rise and 
charge . 

End of Scene . 


SCENE III 

Street before Palace Gate. 

Officers and remnant of Puritans amid captured 
guns . Rebels in flight . 

ist Officer \kneeling to Gospeller]. Art hurt, 
good comrade ? 

Gospeller. Aye, I’m sorely hurt, 

But more in soul than body. 
ist Officer. 


Ah, that knave — 


66 The Coronation 

The last of all you smote — hath run you through, 
Yet not to death; the steel hath scaped the heart 
And you shall live the hero of this fray. 

Who with a swift, sure stroke of wit and sword 
Clutched victory from defeat. See ! there they 
fly 

Winging their speed with fear, for they have 
found 

The might an honest handful hath to send 
Against a host of knaves. Look, brother, look ! 
And take the balm to heal true soldier’s wounds, 
In sight of foes that flee. 

Gospeller. That is His will. 

’T is not His will that to my sinful heart 
This slaying brought foul joy, that I have raged 
Once more a demon, lusting for men’s blood. 
Rejoicing as I slew. Bear me away — 

That hurt will mend. This sore wound of my 
soul 

Must wait for Him to heal, or else I go 
To utter death. 

ist Officer [to other Puritans ]. Ye know 

where he would lie, — 

There gently bear him. If he live, say nought 
Of his brave deed : he’s of the quality 
Fame’s trumpet jars. If’t is God’s will he die, 


6 ? 


The Coronation 

Of all our love we ’ll build him monument 
To cheer the men to come. [To Gospeller.] 
Comrade, farewell! 

Thy once despised gospel’s to my heart 
In this new preachment. [They bear him away. 
2D Officer. Ho ! we’ve strangely won ! 

ist Officer. Aye, and as strangely lost, for 
with him go 

The shades of many fictions tricked as we. 

And in their stead there comes a sombre host 
To tread upon our dust. I ’ll seek our knaves : 
These skulking braggarts, now the fight is won, 
Will serve to harry on the throng that flies 
And foil all turning. Hie you to the Queen 
And say that she hath safety. 

End of Scene . 

SCENE IV 

Whitehall. 

Spanish Ambassador , Officers, and Courtiers. 
Arundel, Gardiner. 

Philip [looking from window ]. The rebels gain, 
their guns are at the gate. 

Their shot fall in the courtyard. [To Officer.] 
Make ye haste 


68 The Coronation 

To gather what is here of faith and arms 
That we bear hence our Queen. We’ll fight to 
win 

To river’s side and thence unto the Tower, 

Where we may hold. 

Officer. Aye, that we ’ll try if needs. 

But see, they have had time to fire again, 

And since their only round the battle ends. 

Hark to that cry of beaten men who flee 
As though the devil lashed them. It is done 
Save for the after doing. 

Enter 2D Officer. 

Philip. We’ve no men 

Thus at a stroke to smite a host away. 

The saints have heard our prayer. [To 2D Of¬ 
ficer]. What has come 
To stay this instant peril ? 

2D Officer. ’T was a man 

Of God’s own sending, who with brethren stout, 

In all a score, while ye might twenty count, 

Smote heart from out their thousands; sent their 
wreck 

In whitefaced flight of dastards who have seen 
The blaze of true men’s eyes. 

Philip. Bring ye him here 

To take our honour for this deed that shows 


The Coronation 69 

How our true faith doth knit the hearts of men 
To faithful works. 

2D Officer. Aye, true faith knit their hearts 
And swords to faithful purpose. They he away, 
What’s left of them, bearing their captain where 
His soul have chance to heal from strangest wound 
That ever soldier took. Leave be, my lord: 

He would not grace this presence. 

Philip. He who saves 

His faith and throne hath grace from high on him. 
2D Officer. Well said, my lord, but lest ye 
may unsay 

Your righteous judgment, leave this man unsought. 
Awhile ago we hurled him out this gate 
Whence he hath fended treason with a faith 
Our hearts know not. He ’ll come in his good 
time, 

Mayhap ’t will not be ours. 

Enter the Queen. 

Queen. God help us in this storm. Good ser¬ 
vants, pray 

His mercy in sore trial, so if we fall 
He judge us faithful. 

Philip. Ah, my Queen, ’t is by ; 

Your soldiers now make finish of their work 
And ready for the gaolers. ’T was but a gale 


The Coronation 


70 

To show with its fierce buffets that the ship 
Is worthy of the seas. Yea, it shows your folk 
Have in them mettle that will make good steeds 
When they are broken to the master’s will 
By hand that’s firm and the unspared lash 
That bends stiff necks, to service. 

Queen. You know not 

The stubborn will that fronts us as we strive 
To lead them to their duty. One and all, 

From peasant to their princes, have hard hearts, 
And hands that clutch at arms, so soon they feel 
The rightful master’s touch. We see in this 
No sudden quake of earth, but land infirm 
With deep laid treason. Aye, beneath this house 
I hear the toil of those who delving deep 
Sap its foundations. All the night I hear 
Those strokes ring out my knell. When they are 
stilled 

I ’ll know the fateful moment to me comes, 

Know Who does fire the train — 

Philip. Nay, my dear Queen, 

These are but fancies ; ’t is the sovereign’s part 
To set all fear aside and go straight on 
As the brave soldier does. 

Queen. It is not fear, 

But lack of hope ; the hope to bid me be 


The Coronation 71 

The victor in this light. My lord, ye know 
The valour of our blood bows not to fear, 

But those who bred us never had to face 
God's frowns as we, — or so to doubt His will. 
Enter Soldier. 

What brings you here thus like a butcher's knave 
Besmeared with blood and grime ? 

Soldier. Your majesty, 

Wyatt is broken, all his banners down. 

Himself penned in the Tower. 

Queen. Alas, one more 

To join the host we 've sent upon the way. 

\To Gardiner. 

We need your help, good bishop. 'T is your work, 
Hoping't is God's, that we are doing here; 

At times it seems the devil's. Where's the end 
In love of Christ, in brotherhood of men. 

In peace on earth ? 

Gardiner. Your majesty does well 

To ask where is the end. If you would roundly 
deal 

With one who is the spring't would end our ills 
And bless this realm with His enduring peace. 
Queen. We know your meaning, yet we cannot 
heed: 

That spring flows to our heart; if it be stayed 


72 The Coronation 

’T would quell its sister pulses. Seek some way 

Far short of this. 

Gard. There is no other way. 

Queen [to Arundel]. My lord, we know you 
generous and kind, 

Yet to our kingdom faithful, as you be 
To His above. Give us your judgment true ; 

On it we ’d rest more than upon this priest’s, 

For he sees but the needs of our dear church, 

You to the things of earth, as nobleman. 

Arundel. My liege, it racks my heart to say 
with him 

There seems no other way. Alas, ’t is true, 

For while that fatal star hangs o’er this land 
As loadstone, it will draw the souls of men 
From faithful courses. It has witchery 
None can withstand. So even if that star 
Will not misguiding, it doth lead astray — 

Yea, in our sorrow, we should bid it die. 

Gard. So answer true men, knowing it is time 
To set us right with God. 

Queen. Peace, peace, hard priest, 

Your eyes are hungry for this sacrifice ; 

They know not mercy. Let me hear this man. 
Arun. Your servant’s heart breaks with your 
own, oh Queen, 


73 


The Coronation 

In this sore sorrow. They bid ye find stay 
In the enduring order of our law 
That with God’s justice lights the feet of men. 
Submit this cause to trial: let us show 
How all this treason hath one only source 
And knows one only quell. The task is not 
For kinsmen’s will or hearts that break ; ’t is theirs 
Who sit above the state, apart, serene. 

Queen. He sends His mercy to be first in rule 
And with it gives the scales and sword of law. 

Yet in the deed is mercy but a babe 
To wail mid man’s contending helplessly. 

Alas, poor child of God, what have we done 
To nurture thee within this ruthless realm ? 

Arun. His mercy is the sovereign angel still, 
Though it doth wait on justice. First is right; 
Until that’s done there is no place for else. 

Hear Justice speak in thunder, then is time 
To hark the voice of mercy. 

Queen. Good, my lord ; 

We made you judge, we will your judgment 
take: 

Let Justice hear and send its message on 
Through all this troubled land so that the truth 
Quell all foul rumours, set us in the light 
So our defence be good ’fore God and man. 


74 The Coronation 

Arundel, you shall sit in judgment there; 

Your heart will know the truth,—yea, smite it¬ 
self 

For innocency’s sake. My bishop, too — 

Nay, nay, it must not be. Again your eyes 
Have else than justice in them — yours the task 
To set the proofs that you have conned so long. 
You will array them well, — I dare trust that. 
Thus ’t is resolved, — so be it quickly done. 

Gard. My Queen, we are His servants in this 
deed; 

We shall serve well. 

Queen [musing]. Aye, but remember yet 
His mercy waiteth here. [Exit Gardiner. 

Philip, my Philip, how this task is sore ! 

Yet it is lightened by thy love, and hope 
That this may bring us safety — 

Philip. Ah, my Queen, 

’T will be scant safety that this action brings, 

For in its train is peril. Better far 
To set that villain on the way to block ; 

He is the spring of these rebellions 
That desolate your land. 

Queen. What wouldst thou do? 

Smite God’s anointed ? 

Philip. Nay, I first would shear 


The Coronation 75 

The lamb from off that wolf, — send all the 
church 

Gave him of grace back to its sacred store. 

Then toss the rest to fellow carrion. 

End of Scene. 


SCENE V 

On Stairs leading from Hall. 
Gardiner and Courtiers, 
ist Courtier. Oh ho, my bishop, you will 
lose the game. — 

A hundred ducats that Lord Arundel 
Gives ’gainst you in the issue. So ’t is gaged ? 
Gardiner. I ’ll take that hazard, see it easy 
won. 

And wager like the Tower finds the end 
That we shall win it ere this sennight’s done. 
ist Court. I ’ll take that too, and yet another 
stake 

That Robin Come Again will give ye mate. 

Gard. That vagrant bumpkin peasant from the 
fields ? 

2D Court. All that, and clown, and fool, and 
yet a man 


76 The Coronation 

Such as sprouts from our hedgerows with the 
might 

To down Goliath. 

Gard. I will gage my head 

That I have his before the other falls. 

ist Court. Done ; so you pay the others Tore 
this last: 

First for the ducats, then we ’ll have the head. — 
Ha, ha, our bishop’s head, — that is a prize 
To tempt a pious gamester. 

2D Court, [aside to ist Court.]. So you dare? 
You know what comes of it ? Aye, what hath 
come — 

But ruin is upon him now he strikes 
At this realm’s heart. Yea, he has put his hand 
Within the lion’s mouth; he hath not strength 
To rend those jaws apart. He’s fairly trapped. 

[To Gardiner. 

Farewell, good bishop, —you ’ll remember us 
When you pray for yourself. 

Gard. [aside]. Aye, that I will. 

What means it that these hounds begin to snap 
When they have most to fear ? Now is no 
time 

To reckon out their folly; when ’t is done 
We ’ll reckon with them. [Exit Gardiner. 


The Coronation 


77 


2D Court. 


Would we had his head : 


It is well worth the winning. 
ist Court. 


Aye, were ’t one ; 


But he ’s a hydra : that off, there’s another 
To spit like venom. Now it is a knave 
Of clumsy wit who stumbles on his way 
So any springe will take him. But the next — 
Who knows ? Mayhap a Cromwell, keen and 
strong. 

So let him keep his head till this be done : 

We ’ll have it then — if Satan’s good to us. 

2D Court. You count on Arundel ? He is 
her foe. 

ist Court. We know him honest, though he 
prateth much 

With old man’s fancy for a sounding phrase 
To stir his sleeping wits. As yet he knows 
But idle rumours ; we ’ll trust truth to wake 
The man behind the dotard. We must rest 
On this chance in her peril; if it fails 
There’s left to us the hearts and swords of men : 
They ’ll serve to win my wager of that knave. 


End of Scene . 


?8 


The Coronation 


SCENE VI 

Elizabeth’s Apartments in Whitehall. 
Elizabeth, alone; then Mistress Kate Ashley. 
Elizabeth \kneeling \. God of the fatherless, be 
with me now 

In my sore trial. Lead me with Thy hand 
That I may scape this darkness, find the day 
In some far place. 

Enter Ashley. 

Ashley. So, so, my princess prays. 

And I too with her, that she finds the man 
To guide her madcap ways. 

Eliz. Welcome, dear nurse, 

Would I were child again in thy fond arms ; 

They held me safe. 

Ashley. Tut, tut, my dear, there’s time 

For nurse’s dandling, then there comes another. 
When babe is man, or woman by mishap, 

That sendeth fitter arms for sheltering; 

For thee that time is now. 

Eliz. Truce to that, Kate. 

Ashley. Aye, he ’ll bring truce and safety from 
thy scrapes. 

He’s first of all our nobles ; wed ye ’ll have 


The Coronation 79 

All this stout realm for stay. Soon there will 
come 

A troop to knit ye to our people’s hearts 
And give them back their kings. 

Eliz. Ah, thou art wild 

To bid me seek for rescue from the man 
Who is the sorest peril that I face. 

Ashley. But Courtenay is strong. He loves 
thee well ; 

Wedded ye’ll be the hope of all this land. 

Eliz. He’s but an ugly hunger ; so are all 
Who’ve shaped them by this throne. Nay, nay, 
dear dame. 

We’ll none of that. I ’ll die apart from them, 

If I must die ; I ’ll live, if live I may, 

By help that cometh not from dastard hands 
Or swords that draw for pay. 

Ashley. Where, where, my child, 

In this hard world wilt thou find other help 
Than is thus paid with favours ? ’T is but choice 
So long thou art a maid of whom to hire 
To smite some hireling. But with thee safe wed 
There ’ll spring a wall about thee none may 
break ; 

Thy realm will fend that hold. 

Eliz. Nay, good dame, look 


80 The Coronation 

And see my father’s household rent in twain. 

Each child a foe to other. ’T is not there 
His hapless, shamed daughter may find help; 

She must elsewhere for that. 

Ashley. Wouldst thou go wed 

Some prince beyond the sea and rear a brood 
To chatter gibberish and know this land 
As other than their own ? 

Eliz. Nay, dame, I ’ll wed 

This noble England ; its good folk I ’ll bid 
All to the marriage feast. The banns were said 
Last night at Cecil’s by God’s messenger, 

A yeoman from the wood. We soon shall see 
Whether the bridal cometh in this world 
Or in the next. 

Ashley. Alas, my child is mad. 

Eliz. Mayhap, dear Kate, but not so mad as 
trust. 

Where trust belongeth, in my sister’s heart, 

Or in the faith of men my father made. 

Or in our ancient law. Yea, in this world 
There’s left me but this chance ; all else is gone 
Into the mighty deep. 

Ashley. How can it be ? 

Eliz. Ah, dame, I know no more save comes a 
cry 


The Coronation 8i 

And that my heart springs to it. It may be 
But echoed hope [listening ], and yet it comes 
again, 

A shout of folk who wake in all my land 
With numbed might to arms. Yea, as the dead 
May cry them out their sleep when at the word 
They break forth from their graves to fight again 
Against their people’s death. ’T is but a cry 
So faint and far away I cannot tell 
If it be more than hope, or hope’s poor ghost; 

But if they come to me I ’ll bide with them 
And know no other lover in this world. 

Ashley. Yea, thy folk love thee well. Poor 
helpless folk! 

They will grieve sore for thee : thou art the child 
Of their long travail; dear for memories 
And dearer for the hope that from thee spring 
Kings for their children’s love. What can they 
do 

Those beaten, famished, hapless, for their child ? 
Enter an Usher. 

Usher. Your grace, the lords of council come 
to ye. 

Eliz. Farewell, farewell, pray that the dead 
may wake 

To save me from swift death the living send ; 


82 The Coronation 

Else, dame, I know no more of thy dear face 
That’s lit this world to me, for I must die. 
End of Scene . 


SCENE VII 

Elizabeth’s Apartments in Whitehall. 

Elizabeth, Howard, and Cecil. Guards in 
distance . 

Eliz. How long shall I be here a prisoner ? 

Howard. My cousin, we await the Queen’s 
good will. 

Eliz. Then I bide long, for she has none for 
me: 

You know the reason well. 

Howard. Alas, I know — 

Eliz. That I brought with me hate into this 
world 

Nought but my death can quell. 

Howard. Forget that now. 

Eliz. ’Tis not my memory that burns; ’tis 
hers. 

Howard. She is a gracious sovereign: were 
she free 

This land would lack not mercy. 


The Coronation 


83 


Eliz. I cry not 

For mercy save from God; ’t is right alone 
I claim from her just seat, — the subject’s right 
To be held innocent until ’t is shown 
That she hath wronged another or this realm. 
Poor wretch is princess if she may not plead 
Before her father’s throne. Why come I not 
To set my cause before her ? ’T was her pledge 
That she would hear me, trust me till she heard. 
Who are these masters of my sister’s heart, 

The gaolers of my sovereign, that I have 
In answer to my prayers you bear to her 
The tramp of silent guards beside my door ? 

Cecil. The yesterday you saw yet other 
deeps, — 

To them we enter now. The way is hard, 

Yet we may tread it safe if with us goes 
The lion heart the maiden showed us then. 

We may go far, my princess, but we ’ll win 
If you but stay the daughter of our king 
As in that trial. 

Enter Messenger. 

Mess. From the throne unto the lady Eliza¬ 
beth 

A message borne by the lords of council. 

Enter Gardiner, Arundel, Sussex, and Guards . 


84 The Coronation 

Eliz. Welcome, my lords, into this scanty 
place: 

It needs enlargement, which mayhap you’ll grant 
Befitting to the daughter of a king, 

The sister of two sovereigns. 

Gardiner. Nay, there’s room 

For the short message that we bear to you: 

The royal will that you unto the Tower, 

There to be tried by jury of our lords 
For treason ’gainst our sovereign’s life and realm ; 
And this full swiftly, so that she be spared 
The danger of your presence by the throne. 

Quick, for the tide doth serve to bear us on. 

Eliz. [aside \. Aye, ’t is the tide that bears me 
to the deep. [To Sussex. 

My lord, thou art a man : hear woman’s prayer 
In sorest strait. Bear for me to the Queen 
My plea for right, — that I come fore her throne 
Ere I am sent upon this certain way. 

I have my sister’s promise that my Queen 
Will not me judge unheard. 

Gard. [to Sussex]. Beware, my lord: 

You chance your head on this. 

Sussex. A better chance 

Than to go with thee when we headless hop 
To Satan’s keeping for this work we do. 

[To Elizabeth. 


85 


The Coronation 

Yea, princess, I will bear your message true 
Whatever answer come for you or me. 

Eliz. Thou art a man; they 're seldom in 
these days. 

The sight of one doth stay me by my grave. [ Writes . 

Arundel. Spare all we may ; spare in the name 
of Christ; 

She is forlorn. 

Gard. Spare for the devil's sake: 

If you begin to quaver at this start 
You 'll find a place beside her at the end. 

Arun. There's worse than that, my lord, there 's 
worse than that. 

Eliz. I am your prisoner, read what is writ. 

[<Gives letter to Sussex. 

Gard. Nay, you but play for time; that game 
is done. 

Straightway unto the Tower! Make ready, 
guards. 

Eliz. [as Guards approach to seize her ]. Cecil, 
Cecil, hath God nor man no help 
To fend me from this shame ? 

Cecil. Keep thy brave heart and trust us to 
the end. [Song of people in distance . 

Eliz. My people, oh my people, send thy help 
To save thy hapless child! 


86 


The Coronation 


SONG 

O , Robin *s come again ; O, Robin s come again ! 
The land and sea are wide and free , 

For Robin y s come again . 

He bided in the greenwood long 
And all our fields were lone and sad\ 

No quail pipe chirped its wonted song; 

But now folks' hearts are glad 9 
For Robin ’s come again . 

Our Robin 's come again , our Robin's come again . 


End of Act Third . 


ACTFOURTH 

SCENE I 

Night at River Gate of Tower. 
Warden, Officers, and Guards. 

Bridges [to Officer]. 

HIS flood hath sent us many ; now we 
wait 

The coming of the best, — child of 
our King, 

Joy of our people, in the sullen barge 
That bears her to this night. [Boat appears. 

Officer. God send her help. 

Elizabeth. Where is the step ? 

Guard. We ’ll bear ye to it. 

Eliz. I will go free unto this journey’s end, 
Helped by His might alone who stays me here. 
The truest subject that e’er trod this way. 

[Looking at gate. 

Oh God, why hast Thou brought me to this 
pass 

Unfriended and forlorn ? [Seats herself on a stone. 






88 


The Coronation 
Bridges. Good madam, come within : 

You sit unwholesome here in this wild storm. 
Eliz. Better sit here than in those fearsome 
walls : 

God knows, not I, what ye would bring me to 
When I am there. 

Bridges. Nay, daughter of our king, 

Though we be gaolers we be men withal. 

And ye are here our guest, for whom we ’d care 
As we would for our own. 

Eliz. Thy voice is kind, — 

Aye, thou hast a heart. Give me thy hand; 

My feet deny me. Let us go within. 

[.Helped ^Bridges, she totters through the gate . 
End of Scene . 


SCENE II 

The Tower. 

Elizabeth with remnant of her Servants . 
Elizabeth [in prayer\ . God of the fatherless, 
be here with us, 

The living dead, who have nought in this world 
Save of Thy love and of each other’s hearts. 

If this be gate unto the grave, oh give 


The Coronation 89 

The strength to pass it bowed unto Thy will 
And patient in Thy trial to the end. 

[Sees man weeping. 
Courage, good servant, — thou hast shape of 
man ; 

’T is thine to stay and not to swell the storm 
That beats upon these women. 

Man. Oh my liege, 

Thy crown comes to ye in this prison cell; 

’T is the Lord’s sending, and it gives ye strength 
For more than men can bear. 

Enter Gardiner and Bridges. 
Gardiner [aside to Bridges]. She’s been well 
wrought on, — now we ’ll have the truth 
To some swift questions while she’s racked with 
fear. 

Bridges. You ’ll have what she will give with¬ 
out the rack 

Of any torment you may plan to give : 

Your right is frank confession, nothing more ; 
Have care, then, how you question. 

Gard. [to Elizabeth]. The time has come to 
cast from off thy soul 
The sins that lie upon it; we await 
Confession of thy deeds so thou mayst go 
With hope of mercy to the throne of God. 


go The Coronation 

Eliz. [to Bridges]. Good keeper, tell me when 
shall I be judged ; 

I pray it be this morn. 

Bridges. The time is when 

Our masters will it. Pray it be not soon : 

Days fight for those who wait within these walls. 

Gard. Thou wert the consort of the rebel 
crew : 

Give me the names of all: Lord Courtenay, — 

Was he leagued with them ? 

Eliz. [to Bridges]. If Lord Sussex comes 

May I have speech with him ? Yea, with him 
time 

Doth fight gainst death hard battle for my life. 

Gard. Speak, woman, to my quest, for never 
time 

Plucked hope from life as now. 

Eliz. [to Bridges]. Lord Sussex, though my 
foe, is here my friend ; 

He bore a message for me, yet comes not. 

Bridges. Our gates shall open to your helpers 
all; 

God send the day we open them to you. 

’T is well you trust to Sussex: he is true; 

He will not shame his promise. 

Gard. Rebel, hear; 


The Coronation 91 

Thy silence tells thee guilty. It will need 
Scant trial of thy deeds. 

Bridges. [ Stepping between Gardiner and Eliz¬ 
abeth.] No more of that. 

Gard. Out of my way ! I have my part to do 
With this arch traitor. 

Bridges. End with that, or else, 

Priest though thou art, thy hide shall know my 
sword. 

I am her gaoler, yet she is my ward : 

Were she the meanest, with my life I ’d stand 
’Twixt her and lawless torture. 

Gard. So ye ’ll stand : 

Your life shall pay the forfeit for the aid 
So lent to treason. 

Bridges. Go thy way.— See, guards, 

The gate is shut behind him. Bless the day 
When it may shut him in. 

\Exit Gardiner, slowly , listening. 
Eliz. Good warden, grant that I may have the 
air : 

These walls will slay me with their memories, 

And reek of vermin. I pledge thee my faith, 

And that of sires who ’ve kept the word of kings, 
To bide here till the end. Give me this boon 
And I will die thy debtor. 


92 The Coronation 

Bridges. That ye have ; 

There is a space cramped in against this cell 
Misnamed a garden, for all blossoms spring 
Reluctant in our earth. Yet there ye 'll find 
The clouds and stars. Thereto shall never come 
Unbidden guest save he who giveth this 
With heart that would give all. 

Eliz. Ah, 't is a boon ; 

And when you have the message give it there: 

I would not take it in this sorry place. 

Bridges. If Sussex comes he shall have way to 
you. 

Eliz. Nay, ’t was not that but other word I 
meant, — 

The message that will bid me on my way : 

Let it come in my garden. 

[Bridges bows sadly and turns away . 
Elizabeth goes to her attendants. 
Officer [to Bridges]. Good Lord ! she saw him 
not, though like a bull 
He raged about to toss her, — saw him not. 

Was ever knave so scorned in all this world ? 

Bridges. She has the royal art to see but air 
When she would have no more. Aye, 't was well 
done ; 

That maid 's King Harry's child. Never a man 


93 


The Coronation 
Had fitter heart to rule this troubled land. 

To have her mistress I would take her fate. 

Officer. Is there no chance that she may 
’scape the block ? 

Bridges. Yea, they are strong and knit by need 
to do 

For their own necks. When such hard villains 
fight 

For kingdoms and their lives, they never halt 
To step o’er innocence, but stamp it out, — 

Save that some might comes down to give them 
quell. 

Officer. Comes whence ? 

Bridges. As the Lord wills. 

Officer. At hand of man ? 

Bridges. Aye, of his servants chosen for the 
deed. 

Officer. What tells His choice save when 
their true hearts shape 
The deed He bids them do ? 

Bridges. Nay, man, not that, — 

’T is not for us: we are pledged to a faith 
That binds us hard. It cannot be for us 
Who guard this centre of a state to swerve, 

Else all goes swift to ruin. 

Officer. Aye, not for us — 


94 The Coronation 

Have you beheld the host that gathers here ? 
About our walls as far as eye can see 
Stay sturdy countrymen who patient bide, 
Attentive to a leader. 

Bridges. What would they here ? 

Officer. They make no sign, —they only si¬ 
lent wait: 

They came before she came, and still they come 
As clouds that gather fore a mighty storm. 
Bridges. Double the guards. 

Officer. All here are set in arms, 

Our guns are shotted, so we with them wait 
What the storm renders. 

Bridges. I will forth and find 

Their might and purposes. 

Officer. To see their strength 

You need not go afar ; to judge their plan 
You 'll have to sound a deep and crafty wit 
My plummet fathoms not. That countryman 
Doth shape a purpose strange. 

Bridges. He is a churl ? 

Officer. Aye, but with wit to find the mas¬ 
tering way. 

Go measure him, and know this Tower's built 
On sands that wait the sea. 

End of Scene . 


The Coronation 


95 


SCENE III 

Beside the Tower. 

Robin with Host of Countrymen . Enter Bridges. 
Bridges. What do you here with all these idle 
men ? 

Robin. We wait to watch how fareth this fair 
world. 

Bridges. But why this ward here by the 
Tower’s gate ? 

Robin. For here fits just our mind, so here we 
bide 

Until we find our quest best be elsewhere 
Within our England’s realm. 

Bridges. There is a threat 

In this great trooping of your host fore us : 

If ye bide here we may send ye our shot 
For harder questioning. 

Robin. We fear not that. 

Bridges. You are no soldier or you’d know 
what’t is 

To siege a hold like this. 

Robin. Soldier are you, 

And therefore know right well it profits not 
To smite before you reckon who comes on 
And whether they be friends. 


g6 The Coronation 

Bridges. How many are ye ? 

Robin. Now, what you see; we’ll double ere 
this eve; 

The next day — know our people come to keep 
Tryst here with us. 

Bridges. What is your morrow’s hope ? 

Robin. ’T is as you know, good captain : in 
yon Tower 

Dwelleth our England’s lass. So here we bide 
While vexing no man. 

Bridges. Aye, but what to do ? 

Robin. That hangs on others’ doings. Yet we 
trust 

To turn a-singing back unto our fields; 

Else there’s a chance that many bide here long. 
Bridges. You answer me with riddles, speak 
you plain ; 

What seek you here ? 

Robin. Even as you we seek: 

To go as men upon a way that’s dark, 

Unknowing where it leads. — This is our tale, 
Well told as though our tongues wagged till 
they ’re sore. 

We ’ll find that way — 

Bridges. And on it find your hides 

Well pricked before the end. 


The Coronation 97 

Robin. We reckon that, — 

Reckon to stomach all your shot and still 
To have some hungry bellies at that end ; 

Yet we *d the rather munch our bacon here 
And grin back at your guards till we go home. 

[ They part. 

Officer \to Bridges]. He sees his end. — 
’T will better be for us 

To have them munch their bacon here without 
Than us within our walls. 

Bridges. He cannot win ; 

The ditch is wide, the walls ten fathoms high. 
Officer. Look down the streets and see ; they 
are crammed full 

Of mighty faggots, — each will be a shield 
To him who bears it till the heap will serve 
To bridge a sea if true men know their quest; 

The more we slay the swifter it will grow. 

It is a hardy venture, yet ’t will win. 

Bridges. He is no rustic knave. It is well 
planned ; 

’T will be a pretty trial if it comes, 

Well worth the seeing. 

Officer. Let us spare the proof 

Of their stout quarterstaffs against our swords, — 
*T would make an ugly tale. 


g8 The Coronation 

Bridges. Not half so ill 

As villain time will write if we should win : 

To fall ’neath honest cudgels were good fate 
To standing by the deed we have to do. 

Officer. Well said, well said; let them come 
stoutly on, 

They ’ll give us man’s way out. List to that 
song! 


SONG 

Ye have stout walls but we stout hearts, 

O Tower of London town ; 

For every stone that your ramparts own 
Here ’s a man to bear them down . 

Here are men of old England true, 

With their staves and their bows of yew 
That waxed on the graves 
Where the churchyard saves 
The might that their sires knew . 

Your gates are strong, but stronger yet, 

O Tower of London town. 

Are the men who smite for their England's right 
When their kings upon them frown . 

Here are men of old England true 


99 


The Coronation 
Who their bows at Agincourt drew , 

Who ’ve breasted the waves when the ocean raves 
And England s banners flew . 

Te shut her lovers from England's lass , 

O Tower of London town; 

But the lovers wait for thy open gate 
And for thy drawbridge down . 

These lovers to lass are true 
And hard is the stroke they will do: 

If with their good staves they smite on thy knaves 
Their mothers will it rue , 

0 Tower of London town . 

End of Scene . 

SCENE IV 

Garden of Tower. 

Elizabeth alone . 

Elizabeth. Oh blessed day, with unsoiled light 
of heaven 

And wind from off the sea, come to my heart 
And give me strength to meet what else you 
bring! 

Now daisies are a-blooming in my fields 
Where happy folk are joying in their toil 


L.o FC.i 


ioo The Coronation 

And hope that tends on sowing; yea, they ’ll see 
Their heaped corn at happy harvest home 
And sing their glees about their firesides. 

[.Looking about . 

Oh, were there blossom in this withered place, — 
Gillies, that nurture find in battlements, 

Turning their dust to sweetness; saxifrage, 

That hath the art to break the stones in twain 
To make a nest for beauty! So might bars 
Become mere webs of fancy and my soul 
Go forth where they could prison it no more. 

Enter a little Child, who goes to Elizabeth. 

Ah, here’s my blossom fairest earth doth send. 
Child. See, mistress, I’ve the posies that you 
seek. 

Here ’t is too dark for them, but in the sun 
There in our window they grow beautiful. 

Eliz. [lifting Child]. Oh dear one, didst thou 
know I posies sought 
Where none may grow ? 

Child. Mistress, I heard them say 

Last night, the pretty sister of our Queen 
Came for a little while to bide with us 
Before she went upon her journey far, 

Way past the sea and sky. They told me too 
That she loved fields and blossoms as do I; 


IO I 


The Coronation 
So when I saw thee here where none can live 
I plucked our own for thee. 

Eliz. Dear God, I doubted of Thy will to give 
A blossom to these walls, yet here hath sprung 
Thy very fairest. Scourge me for my doubt 
Of Thine omnipotence. — A little child, 

And yet the prophet of Thy blessed hope ! 

Child [giving Elizabeth a toy key\. See, mis¬ 
tress, here’s a tiny key I Ve found 
To open all the gates, so thou mayst forth 
Into the fields, and not by that dark stair 
Where all our friends are so sad as they go ; 

For they come never back to greet us here ; 

But thou wilt come again and bring me flowers 
From far away. 

Eliz. [<taking key]. Yea, dear one, ’tis the key 
Of all hard gates; who have it may go on 
Past every wall and come back in good time 
For all the gaolers. Whiles I will stay here. 

Enter Bridges. 

Eliz. [to Bridges]. You bring the message? 

Bridges. Nay ; not yet, — not that, 

Nor ought from Sussex. But the trial’s set 
An hour after matins. 

Eliz. Couldst bid me hope ? 

Bridges. I see a hope, — 't is far away as yet 


102 The Coronation 

Beyond these walls. It is not mine to tell; 

’T will not be if it come. Yet if it come, 

Know that ’t was welcomed here, for all it brings 
To us God’s silence. 

Eliz. Nay, I cannot read 

This riddle that ye set; what does it mean ? 

Bridges. Leave it to time; he hath the art to 
set 

And read them clear. He ’s busy in these days 
In shaping meshes for the wits of men 
And strokes to cut them through. Let us go in. 
Eliz. I ’ll fear not master: with thee and thy 
child 

This world lacks not its cheer. 

End of Scene. 


SCENE V 

Great Hall of Tower. 

Judges, Gardiner, Lord Chancellor, Guards, 
Heralds. 

Herald. Hear ye! hear ye! hear ye ! come 
to this court 

Where sitteth justice in our sovereign’s name 
To judge a subject charged with treason high 


The Coronation 103 

Against this throne and land. We summon here 
Elizabeth of England, who doth claim 
To be the daughter of our sometime King, 

To answer for her crimes. We bid her stand 
Before this bar and plead unto this charge. 

Gardiner. Lords of this royal court, it is your 
task 

To judge the guilt of one who sets aflame 
The reaches of this land, — to find the way 
Whereby to save its folk from instant fear 
That peers from every housetop. It is yours 
To fend this realm from ruin: be ye wise 
In meeting justice, putting else aside; 

So that from throne to hut all cry * Well done/ 
And hail your service faithful to their need. 

[To Usher. 

Go bid the warder of this prison bring 
The culprit here. 

[Accompanied by Bridges, Elizabeth 
approaches , bows to court . 

Arundel. What is thy name and place ? 

Elizabeth. Elizabeth of England, child of a 
King, 

Co-heiress of his throne, as ’t was his will; 

Here sharer of his shame in this foul deed. 

Gard. By warrant of our sovereign thou art 
charged 


104 The Coronation 

With treason ’gainst her realm. ’T is writ that 
thou 

Hast schemed with traitors, Wyatt and Courtenay, 
To set against her right, wherefrom there came 
Fierce war that beat against her palace doors ; 
That thou hast plotted ruin to our church, 

This fair realm’s cornerstone; that thou hast aimed 
To seat thyself usurper in her place. 

What say’st thou to these charges ? For thy life, 
If thou art guilty, plead thy guilt to us 
And seek the mercy sin may ever hope ; 

If thou art innocent, set proof’gainst ours 
That’s clear as noonday writ. 

Eliz. \to Judges]. My lords, my judges, by that 
door I left 

A little child, a prattling innocent 

Who came to comfort me in my sore plight. 

That babe’s as much to blame for all the wrongs 
Men do within this Tower as am I 
For those done in this realm. I knew those men 
As ye too know them; nought of their foul scheme 
Until it burst upon me at the last. 

I tried to beat it down as one does flame, 

But could not stay that ill. 

Gard. You see, my lords, she knew. 

Eliz. Alas ! I’ve learned the villainies of men 


The Coronation 105 

From those who should have brought me grace of 
God, 

From those to whom I looked for nobleness, — 
Alas ! I ’ve learned the villainies of men 
In a hard schooling for a princely child. 

Yea, they have hunted me since I was born, 

A hapless maid, more helpless from her birth 
Than peasant’s daughter, — hounded me to earth 
That dead or living I might serve their plans. 

Shall I, an innocent, for mercy plead 
In sorer stress than ever criminal 
That hath stood here ? My lords, before you 
bends 

A maid to whom the breath of life is dear ; 

But dearer yet the safety of her realm, 

Her people’s hope and joy for all their days, 

That cometh but with peace and stable throne. 

To charge me with this treason is to shame 
My kingly blood that knows its honour’s there. 
Gard. These are vain words that touch not 
your defence. 

Know thou that Wyatt fore the block hath told 
Thou didst abet his plans ? 

Eliz. Good judges, set 

Those who so charge me fore my face that I 
May force the truth from them. 


106 The Coronation 

Judge. That cannot be, 

For they have paid their treason or await 
To pay the price the morrow. 

Eliz. Oh, then bring 

That honest yeoman Robin, for he knows 
The very truth and dares to speak it here; 

Or Cecil, trusted even by his foes. 

Gard. They will not serve thee: Cecil was 
thy mate 

In this foul treason, — he shall answer here; 

That yokel Robin, sharer of thy guilt, 

Is fleeing from our bailiffs ; when he ’s found 
We shall have swift yet other use for him. 

Arun. Nay, my lord Bishop, for we know full 
well 

He stood not with the traitors, — that he smote 
Right lusty on them. 

Gard. Aye, we know his legs 

Confess his treason, and have set fair price 
Upon the head they bear : we ’ll have it here 
When he is run to earth. 

[Song in distance of ‘ Robin Come Again .’ 
Elizabeth listens . 

Enter an old Usher. 

Usher. My lords, a countryman is at the gate ; 
He craves his England’s right to stand him here 


The Coronation 107 

And say in sooth what lieth on his heart 
Anent this cause ye try. 

Gard. Who is the man ? 

Usher. He calls him Master Robin of the 
wood; 

He is a mighty man, most like our King 
When he was England's darling. 

Gard. Ho, ye guards! 

Quick ! bar his way. Cast him into a cell. 

He shall not here. 

Usher. Nay, but he comes, my lord. 

He hath that in his face to daunt stout men. 

Enter Robin. 

Arun. [aside\. Ha, ha, well said ! look in his 
grace's eyes! 

Robin. My lords, ye hold this court to try a 
cause 

Whereto I'm knowing, — so I'm bidden here. 
Gard. Who bade thee here ? 

Robin. The God your grace should serve, 

The faith of folk who hold this kingdom dear, — 
So I must speak. 

Gard. [to Guards]. Away! we'll hear him not 
Until he stands a felon by this bar. 

Arun. He is a witness who doth claim to 
know 


108 The Coronation 

The truth we ’re sworn to seek. The law is 
clear : 

He shall be heard, else all our right here ends. 
Speak, man! 

Robin. My lords, a sennight since I came 
With country folk to seek our England’s lass; 

We thought to join our host with Wyatt’s men 
And set her on our throne, for he had told 
This was her will of us, — how she would be 
The very banner of our host that went 
To find us better days. 

Gard. Hear ! judges, hear ! 

This knave hath truth in him ; he tells the tale. 
Robin. At first we found her not; at last we 
came 

Unto her council room to hear her will; 

Swift after us Wyatt and half his host 
Stormed to her chamber, ready in their arms 
For what they did the morrow, as ye know. 

He played the would-be master of our lass. 

’T was then we saw that nought she knew of it, 
For as he told his plan she flew at him 
With rage for all his doing, then with prayers 
That he would spare our people this new woe. 
Spare her the peril that hath laid her here. 

At this the traitor swore that she should go. 


The Coronation 109 

He bade his servants seize her. ’T was too much ; 
So our staves played a tune upon their heads 
That danced them to the street. Thus it be¬ 
fell 

That we who came to queen our England’s lass 
Did right good whacking for the queen that is. 
Gard. There we have treason. He as rebel 
came 

Intent to smite the sovereign of this realm. 

Seize on him, guards ! and set him safe in chains; 
We ’ll judge him next, —by his own words he ’ll 
die. [Guards approach , haltingly . 

Robin [to Guards]. Nay, masters, ’twill not 
serve to hold me here : 

My lads await me yonder ; if I bide 
After the noon they ’ll haste to seek for me. 

They will be over many for your room, 

For all this hold is spacious. 

Gard. He is mad. 

Ho, Bridges, chain this rebel madman, quick ! 
Have hold on him until we bid him here. 

Bridges [to Judges]. Nay, he’s not mad; ye 
are the madmen here. 

Unknowing how ye face a folk in arms. 

They ’re twenty thousand like beside our walls 
With plan and might to pass them at a stroke ; 


iio The Coronation 

Would ye have proof? Then keep this yokel 
here 

Until the clock hath struck. We’ll to our place 
And do our dying as ’t is fit we should. 

They will announce their coming in swift time. 

[Exit Bridges. 

Eliz. Farewell, good Robin, ‘Robin Come 
Again : ’ 

Where’er this earth hath need of faithful men. 

Be it God’s will, you ’ll save me from this edge. 
Robin. Farewell, dear lass, we ’ll ever bide 
with thee. [Exit Robin. 

Gard. [after a silence\. You see, my lords, how 
treason saps this realm 
Till e’en this mighty hold is undermined 
And counts its ramparts nothing ’gainst a herd 
Of unarmed yokels led by braggart knave. 

Fore whom our guards bow low. It is for ye 
To send the axe of justice to the root 
Of all this menace; forthwith to your task, 

So that the morrow be a better day 

And bring good safety to our tottering state. 

Bid now this woman plead unto your charge, 

And show she had no share in Wyatt’s deeds ; 

Else send her to her doom. 

Eliz. My lords, sworn judges, ye right nar¬ 
rowly 


Ill 


The Coronation 
Have sifted all my doings ere I came 
To this account. ’Gainst me in secret quest 
Set each mean servant in his fear to speak 
With hope my death would spare his craven life. 
In grave pretence of justice will ye bid 
This helpless woman, chained within your hold, 
Bring counter proof of faith more than God sent, 
Yea, by His miracle, in that brave man ? 

If ye are here for judgment give it now, 

If’t is to slay me ye can do no more 

Than what the Lord’s appointed. Unto Him 

His servant prays forgiveness for your sins. 

[Silence in court . Arundel rises , goes to 
Elizabeth, and kneels before her . 
Arun. Aye, she speaks truth, my lords; we 
came to slay : 

I was the foremost in this villain quest 
With thought to mend our follies with this crime. 
By grace of God the victim sets the deed 
In His clear day before me while’t is time 
To ’scape from hell. [Lords rise excitedly . 

Gard. Another traitor stands 

Before this bar, my lords ! He leaves you clean 
To do your duty as your sovereign bids. 

Back to your seats ! Remember that on you 
Rests order from her throne. 

Enter Sussex. 


112 The Coronation 

Sussex. This quest must cease. 

Gard. Order within this court! My lord hath 
place 

To sit in judgment, though he be late come, 

But not to stay the law. 

Sussex. Your grace must hear 

Two mighty reasons why this cause be stayed ; 
Each were enough for common men and kings. 
First is, our sovereign mistress bids ye hold. 

The other too hath weight, ’t is that a host 
From all this realm now like an avalanche 
Hangs o’er this tower’s wall. It waits the word 
Of one stern man to smother all our strength; 

He stays for answer, yet he ’ll stay not long. 

\Court rises and disperses . 
Courtier \to Gardiner]. Ho, Bishop, pay thy 
forfeits, — they ’re our due. 

We will forgive the ducats, but thy head 
Is what we played for. 

Gard. \aside^. Oh God, what can Thy servants 
in this day ? 

End of Scene. 


The Coronation 


IJ 3 


SCENE VI 

Court Yard of Tower. 

Elizabeth and Cecil. 

Elizabeth. Oh Cecil, Cecil, thou didst leave 
me here 

Alone, unfriended in my trial sore. 

Cecil. Nay, madam, they serve best who from 
away 

See where is service needed in fit time. 

Here still was peril far, for I could count 
On two brave souls; your own, and his who came 
To lay his staff against the weighted scale. 

Eliz. I crave thy pardon, Cecil; I ’m sore 
wrought, — 

Not by my peril, for I ’m steeled to face 
The edge of axe; but by that demon fierce 
Who wrestles for my life as if to save 
His own from deeper hell than owns him now. 
What means his torment while I tread the earth ? 
Why doth my living scorch his very soul ? 

Cecil. Would that I knew, for then I ’d clearer 
read 

What we must know. A month ago our friend, — 
True friend, if speech of man to ears attuned 


114 The Coronation 

E’er tells its meaning, — full of helpful wit 
To sense our dangers and forelook our ills. 

Then, all the sky unchanged, our bitterest foe 
With devil’s art to find his master’s way. — 

He is the riddle of our baffling age : 

True man and knave, — brave, with a coward’s 
heart, — 

Friend to high learning, lover of the mire; 

True priest and gamester. Yea, the Lord alone 
Can sum his good and ill. 

Eliz. What is in me 

That he should bay me like a sleuth ? 

Cecil. He plans 

Mayhap to be the Cromwell of our time, 

And fears in you what came unto that man 
From your stern father. We will leave him lie 
So for a time until his wounds are healed. 

He is hard hit. 

[Gate opens and troop of horsemen enter . 
Eliz. See, Cecil, see 

How through the gate a new host enters here. 
What means this coming ? 

Cecil. Men from out the north 

Their blue coats tell. It means you shall away 
From this foul hold and memories of ill. 

Enter Bridges. 


The Coronation 115 

Eliz. What is it, Bridges ? Will he dare to 
strike 

Without a warrant ? Is the scaffold down 
Whereon they slew my cousin ? 

Bridges. Fear not, my princess; he hath dared 
and failed 

With warrant forged. Your sister has it now ; 

It ends his mischief. 

Cecil [aside]. Ah, the serpent lives 

For all his bruising ! 

Eliz. [to Bridges]. What will they with me? 
Bridges. The Knight of Bedingfield with his 
good men 

Shall bear you hence to Woodstock. 

Eliz. Is he a man 

To lend his conscience to mine enemies 
If he were bid thereto ? — a Tyrrel sent 
To guide his prince unto eternal rest 
For journey’s end ? 

Bridges. Nay, he ’s a faithful man, 

Albeit he is stern, — a keeper true 
Whose sword is shield to those his duty wards. 

Eliz. God help me, for I dare not go with him: 
Here reeks my kinsmen’s blood, here every sound 
Shapes it to fear, and yet I dare not go 
Beyond that gate and forth into the fields 


n6 The Coronation 

That seemed this morn to be so near to heaven. 
Ah, Cecil, I am broken, old, and wan,— 

A hunted doe that feels the dogs’ hot breath. 

[Sinks down and weeps . 
Cecil. Be brave, dear maid, be brave. The 
worst is by 

Of this hard faring ; when you pass yon gate 
The Tower lies behind. Your keeper new 
Is as this man you leave, a very man. 

For better safety with you march five score 
Of Robin’s men. They go not with your train. 
Yet they will be about you, though unseen, 

For service if there’s need. He fares with them. 
Bridges [aside]. Is this device to put us off the 
guard 

And give them chance for stroke we cannot fend ? 
Cecil. Aye, that’s the plan. But the stout 
wall will hold 

That Robin sets about her ; there we trust 
And each day tells for safety. Have her forth 
So that the night come when she’s past the town : 
We dare not risk the darkness; though this day 
In highest noon is very near to night. 

[Exit Bridges. 

Eliz. Yea, Robin gives me trust. ’T is won¬ 
drous strange 


The Coronation 117 

That from the greenwood springs this mighty 
gnome 

To bring me help, to spend his life for mine 
In simple thoughtlessness of ought to gain 
Save in his gift; while of our noblemen 
Fair writ upon the ancient lists of fame. 

Sealed to me by the story of this realm, 

Alas ! what have I but hard reckoning 
That counts my heart’s blood for some villain 
gain ? 

Thou art of riddles master ; read me this. 

Cecil. He calls you England’s lass; there is 
the clue. 

He is the spirit of the folk you love, 

The folk of wood and field who send you back 
Your love, with service that will stay you long. 
Brave times and folk thus sum them in a man 
Whom God sends forth to be their messenger, 

To reck of nought save that he straightway fares 
Bearing His word : and when his task is done 
He goes to air or dust, to be forgot. 

For his eternal part was what he bore. 

Eliz. That is fantastic. I will rather hold 
That God, who hath denied me what He grants 
To child of humblest peasant, — mother’s love, 
The clasp of sister’s hand, the brother’s cheer, — 


n8 The Coronation 

Hath shaped me of our earth a kinsman true 
That I, else hapless, might know ere I die 
What life may give to man. 

Cecil. Aye, ’tis well matched, 

In this fantastic world we have our choice 
Of myriad phantasies. 

Enter Bridges and Bedingfield. 
Bridges. Madam, my task is done. He bows 
to you 

Who takes my place, Sir Henry Bedingfield. 

Eliz. \to Bridges]. Though I be daughter of 
a king and more, — 

A faithful subject, yet I Ve little learned 
Of bidding welcome gaolers, and know not 
How I should greet Sir Henry. But my heart 
Knoweth of sorrow as I say farewell 
To you, the first who held me prisoner 
In peril of my life. If ye be all 
Thus true and gentle, sheltering and kind, 

’T were well my hapless days should pass with 
ye. 

Sir Henry. Ah, madam, give us time to show 
our faith : 

We will our best to prove it none the less 
Than Bridges hath his proved. 

Eliz. 


Yea, Til give time, 


The Coronation ng 

Full glad ’t is mine to give, for on this morn 
It promised to be scant. Where go we hence ? 

Sir Henry. Straightway to Woodstock, yet by 
stages short; 

We ’re charged to ward ye well with all our care. 
Eliz. ’T is a strange sudden kindness. I stood 
there 

Within that wild beast den, alone, alone, 

Save for my gaoler, till that wonder came 
As heaven’s bolt to quake their craven hearts. 

Sir Henry, you have marked that this world’s 
strange. 

You long have seen it: sure you know it well ? 
Sir Henry. Aye, princess, it is strange upon 
its face, 

But stranger in the depths you cannot know ; 

Yet better neath the ugly mask it wears 

Than scorned youth e’er deems it. Let us forth: 

Your soul will be the lighter in the fields. 

Eliz. God send it, for that soul’s a weary 
thing. 

Why go I hence and far ? I’m sore perplexed. 

I would unto my sister. 

Sir Henry. ’T is so set,— 

Appointed in the writ that sent me here, 

And bids me forth with you. 


I 20 


The Coronation 
Cecil. Take heart and go : 

There lies our safety. 

Eliz. Ah, I am a child,— 

A weary child in the strong hands of men ! 

It is best so. Farewell, farewell. 

[Exit Elizabeth and train . 
Bridges. Ah, they have slain her, for her lion 
heart 

Hath rent her body as she fought for life. 

Cecil. Aye, she is low ; but in her dwells the 
might 

To sway this kingdom when our hearts are dust. 
This faring gives her chance : if she stayed here, 
She would go down before them ; in the land, 

Her people are her guard, and Bedingfield, 
Though he be papist, is of faith so true 
He ’d shield her from the highest who would 
smite. 

Bridges. God send her safety, for she is our 
hope. 


End of Scene . 


The Coronation 


I 21 


SCENE VII 

Gate of Palace of Richmond. 
Elizabeth and Bedingfield. 

Sir Henry. Your grace lies here to-night. 
Elizabeth. Nay, I will on 

Unto my folk, where mayhap there is peace. 

Here still am I in shadow of that ill 

That hunts me down. That stealthy terror creeps 

As a great serpent close upon our steps; 

I see its gory maw. — Away, away, 

Where my folk wait, for they will shelter me 
In their safe hearts. 

Sir Henry. Nay, you are waited here. 

Eliz. Who waits me here ? Oh, what new ill 
is this ? 

For nought else waits for me. 

Sir Henry. The Queen doth wait 

To give you greeting, — sure that is no ill. 

Eliz. Aye, sure my sister would not have me 
die ; 

For she ’s my sister, I her subject true. 

The yesterday — ah, I have clean forgot 
That other’s by — mayhap it was a dream 


122 The Coronation 

That should end with fair waking and not mix 

With profitable deeds. When shall I to her ? 

Enter Lord Williams of Tame. 

Sir Henry. It is not said, but here’s my lord 
of Tame 

Who joins your guard: he comes as one with 
news. 

Eliz. Greeting, my lord ! ’T is good to see a 
face 

That sets it mid the ghosts of happy days. 

Yea, we have danced together in the land 
That lies the other side of Acheron. 

Lord of Tame. Nay, princess, take it not so 
sore as that: 

Ye are not there, but here in this brave land 
Whose ways we’d strew with blossoms for your joy. 

Eliz. There I ’d have asked thee for forget- 
me-nots ; 

Now would I only poppies on my way, 

And for my bed, — they hold oblivion 
In their dark cups. What is my gaoler’s will? 
Where shall I lay me down ? 

Lord of Tame. Nay, but I come 

With bidding from the Queen that you to her: 
She’s fared from Whitehall and would greet you 
here. 


The Coronation 123 

Eliz. I ’m from her other palace by the sea. 
Whence few go forth to greet a king of earth. 

T is a strange chance that brings this welcoming. 
Where shall I meet her ? 

Lord of Tame. In her chamber there 

She waits your coming. We will bear you in, 

For you are worn and weary. 

Eliz. Nay, I ’m strong. 

Yet have I fear of gates and all within ; 

I know not what they hold; though they be fair 
And herald cheer, they shut behind me close 
With clank of bolts and bars; oh, then who 
knows 

Whether these eyes may look on fields again ? 
Lord of Tame. Nay, my dear princess, let this 
gate give cheer, 

For we its warders guard you with our hearts. 
Look in our eyes and trust us. 

Eliz. [gazing at him \. Yea, I trust. 

I left nigh all behind me in that hell 
That this life gives, yet hence the jewel brought 
Of trust in men, — in God-appointed men 
Set by His might to shame the evil herd 
And stay His servants’ trust in His stern rule: 

My lord, I read your faith; so bear me in. 

End of Scene . 


The Coronation 


i 24 


SCENE VIII 

Queen’s Chamber in Richmond Palace. 

Queen and Attendants . Enter Usher. 
Usher. Your majesty, the Princess doth attend 
Your sovereign will. 

Queen. Go bid her here. \To attendants . 

We would now be alone 
While she bides with us. Go, await my call. 

[Exit attendants . Queen stands looking 
fixedly at the curtain . After a time 
Elizabeth enters , clad in black as for 
execution , and very pale . She silently 

approaches the Queen. 

Queen. Saints help us! What is this that 
cometh here ? 

Elizabeth. The shadow of your sister whom 
you sent 

Unto the gate of death. Think you they turn 
With freshened blood from that sore journeying ? 
Their ghosts hie back. Your face is as a glass 
That tells me what the change; I have left youth 
And hope and trust in kin and all earth’s ties 
Within that blackened gate. 

Queen. Pray God you left 

All rage against your Queen, against your faith, — 


I2 5 


The Coronation 

All hunger for a state that’s not your own; 

So would we bide as sisters, and this land 
Know once more peace. 

Eliz. So once again that charge 

Your creatures shamed to hold, all save that fiend 
You set upon my life. That I am here 
A little more than ghost doth show it fell 
Before God’s justice. Aye, it lieth there 
Trod ’neath the feet of those who yet were men, 
For all they swore to do iniquity 
At your command. 

Queen. At my command ! Ah, no,— 

At the behest of that to which I bow 
As the true sovereign must. ’T was other will 
That sent you to that trial, though my soul 
Plead with its God to take it rather hence 
Than bid it bear that burthen. Oh, you long 
To lord this realm. If it comes to your hands 
You ’ll find them shackled and your soul a slave. 
You ’ll slay when ’t is your very self you smite,— 
Live at the bidding of a will unknown 
Save as it goads you helpless on and on 
Unto the sheltering grave. 

Eliz. All that I know. 

For I have striven with the tide that bears 
Helpless the throng it wraps unto the deep. 




126 The Coronation 

But what’s a sceptre if it cannot ward 
A hunted woman, sister to a throne ? 

Who hath the strength to smite hath strength to 
save. 

Queen. She smote, yet saved. 

Eliz. Yea, but it came too late ; 

For death was there before, all but the stroke, — 
That trifling touch of steel that giveth peace, — 
’T was all you spared. 

Queen. Yea, I would all else spare 

That is in store for thee, if ought would break 
Thy will indomitable; bid thee go 
In ways that fit a daughter of this realm. 

Eliz. I know that way ; you Ve showed it oft 
before: 

It is to simper with the throng of dames 
Until you bid me wed some stripling king 
And part me from this realm. I ’ll none of that: 
Here bide I with my people till I die. 

I ’d rather share their hapless grave with them 
Than bed of any monarch in this world. 

Queen. Will nothing tame thy fury, give thee 
pause 

In thy mad hunger for the common herd ? 

E’en in thy prison thou didst not forget 
Thy lifelong purpose to ensnare their hearts. 


The Coronation 127 

Eliz. Hear now the truth of that. I won to me 
A little child, my gaoler, and a lord 
Who kneeled to tell me he too sought my life 
Till Christ came to him. Yea, and a worthy man,— 
But he was mine before, — mine for my days: 

He brought me message from the land. ’T is all. 
They ’re half of those I count in this world friends ; 
The rest, they fell away when I there fell, 

Slain by a sister’s hand. Of this enough ; 

It fits us not. You are my sovereign still. 

And I your faithful subject. But command 
And I obey, God help me, to the end. 

Queen. I sought thee here in hope to wake 
again 

The love that knit us once. 

Eliz. Ah, that is gone. 

Queen. And in its place mad hate ? 

Eliz. Nay, — emptiness : 

Or love or hate, I ’ll never know them more. 
Madness it may be, for this world doth stare 
Into my eyes as bedlam. 

Queen. That doth come 

Where’er thou art. We dare not leave thee stay 
In any seat, for there sedition springs; 

So thou must on unceasing to the end, 

Till thou art conquered by thy weariness, 


128 The Coronation 

And our state left to rest. So we may spare 

All that we can to it and thee. 

Eliz. I ’ll on 

Within this moving prison wall of spears 
Until God sends the quell, or murther finds 
Its way to end my going. Ah, great Queen, 

Why play me as a mouse ? Why spare the stroke 
To keep the victim watching whence it comes ? 

I dare to die as princess should; but this 
Slow dragging out of life will bring me shame 
And send me whimpering unto my end 
Like a base churl. 

Queen. No more, no more ! 

Or I ’m as mad as thou. Get straightway hence! 
You go among the yokels whom you love. 

They ’ll be thy stay. Oh, quit that monstrous fear 
Of murther that doth shame us. Thou art safe — 
Safe as a mortal can be who hath wrought 
A world to menace. Go, I 'll follow thee 
With all a sovereign can of guard and care. 

And if thou prayest, pray God heal this woe, 

That parts us sisters. 

Eliz. Aye, and when ye pray, 

Remember there’s another who doth know 
That ill far more than ye. Sister, farewell. 

[Exit Elizabeth. 


The Coronation 129 

Queen \summoning Usher]. Bid Sir Henry here. 
Enter Bedingfield. 

How fared my sister with ye from that place ? 

Sir Henry. My liege, sore troubled. First she 
feared to go 

Forth from the Tower, for that she felt her safe, 
Her trial by and in good Bridges’ guard. 

Soon as the gates were closed, the terror came 
Of what she ’d fronted, as no man had done. 

She is a lioness fore dangers faced, 

But strangely fearful of all that are by; 

It is the woman’s way. She frighted not 
Fore threats we met upon our journey here. 

Queen. What mean you ? Threats ? What is 
there then to threat 

In broad day faring from that place to us ? 

Sir Henry. Aye, there were many bent on 
seeking her ! 

Some paid dear for their quest. Be sure, my queen. 
There’s plot upon her life. 

Queen. Nay, nay, true Knight, 

This is but fancy. None would dare to that 
Within my realm. 

Sir Henry. Your majesty knows well 

I am not prone to fancies. I have served 
Too long a soldier to mistake the signs 
Of hidden foes. 


130 The Coronation 

Queen. You, too, have caught the ail 

From my disnatured sister. She infects 
All men who see her with her phantasies : 

I trust to see you stand where others fell. 

She needs a master; such you now must be 
Until she bends her to our sovereign rule : 

You ’ll bear her forth by steadfast journeys on. 

Not staying past a night, so she have not 
A chance to plot with any. That this be 
sure, 

She leaveth here all of her retinue, 

The servants of her treasons. Guard her well : 

No ill must come to her. 

Sir Henry. But this is ill : 

We cannot give her safety in a camp 
Or on the march. She should bide in some 
hold. 

Yea more, she is sore stricken,— like to die; 

She needs good housing and her women’s care. 
Queen. Again your fancies. She was here this 
hour 

With all a fury’s strength to bear me down. 

Go to ! you know not women. See her on 
To Woodstock and beyond as we ’ll direct. . 

Sir Henry. ’T is mine to hear and do, ’t is 
yours, my Queen, 





The Coronation 13 i 

To bear what comes of it. I ask but this, — 

The soldier’s right to have his order signed. 

Queen. Aye, you shall have it so. Forth to 
your task ! 

End of Scene . 

SCENE IX 

Gate of Richmond Palace. 

Elizabeth and Bedingfield come forth . Guards 
ready to march ; her people afar off. 
Elizabeth. Where are my people ? 

Sir Henry. They all bide here ; you go with 
us alone. 

Eliz. Ho, what new shame is this ? I ’ll not 
go on. 

E’en to the block a princess hath the right 
To those who serve her. 

Sir Henry. Madam, but’t is writ, 

’T is writ your servants bide, that you must on. 

We do the subject’s duty as we must. 

Eliz. O God, I dreamt ’t was hell in yonder 
Tower: 

They hurl me deeper. Let me see what’s writ. 

[Bedingfield gives Elizabeth her orders. 
*T is here, ’t is plain. Good man, thou art a knight ? 


132 The Coronation 

Sir Henry. Aye, madam, that I am. 

Eliz. Not by mere chance of breeding, but 
well had 

F the good old way by knightly service done ? 

Sir Henry. Your grace remembers well. 

Eliz. Yet I reck not of ever knight who did 
Such villain headsman’s service that a knave 
Would mask him for the doing, so his shame 
Might not infect his bastards ! 

Sir Henry. Ah, your grace, 

A knight may do such deed if he knows well 
In its stead cometh worse. Unsay your words. 
For this man seeks to serve you with his life 
And willing bears his shame that he may serve. 
Eliz. Give me thy hand ; I wrong thee. Let 
us on 

Into the darkness. \T° weeping servants .] Farewell, 
farewell. 

Tanquam ovis. —Yea, to the sacrifice I go. 

End of Scene . 


The Coronation 


r 3 3 


SCENE X 

A Wood. 

Elizabeth in a litter amid the Guards. Beding- 
field, Lord of Tame. 

Elizabeth. \to Sir Henry], I can no further. 
Let me to yon house! 

This march is torment; I must rest or die. 

Sir Henry. ’T is writ you lie at Woodstock. 
If we stay 

The night will be upon us, and high noon 
Is black enough for that we have to do 
To win you safety. 

Eliz. God of fatherless, 

Has Thou forgot this lonely sufferer 

Who in Thy world doth seek but place to die ? 

[She falls back in litter . 
Sir Henry [to Tame]. What find you on our 
skirts ? Do they set on ? 

Tame. Yea, now and then they try it once 
again. 

But Robin’s yokels settle their account, — 

Give them to dance beneath a greenwood tree 
With heels well up in air. They ’re merry men 
And swift to do his bidding. 

Sir Henry. 


Ah, ’t is well 


13*4 The Coronation 

He lends his service, else she had not won 
So far upon her way. By night we have 
A wall about us and a chance to fight 
The other fight that’s coming for her life. 

Tame. Where we nor they can fend her with 
man’s arms. 

Enter throng of people . 

Rustic. Hail, England’s hope ! we ’re with 
thee on thy way; 

Cheer up thy heart and bear thy pain for us ; 

We will remember in the days to come 
Thy days and ours. 

Eliz. [rising in litter ^. Welcome, all ye dear folk. 
Our days are like in sorrow, but the Lord 
Lives on forever and our land is His. 

Youth [to Matron]. Nay, that is not our lass, 
for she is young 

And merry as e’er maid; this here is old 
With wizened face and eyes sunk in her head. 

Sure’t is the other queen. 

Matron. A curse on all 

Who made them like. [To Elizabeth]. Hail, 
lass, our roses bloom 

And thou shalt have them back into thy cheeks. 
Here be thy roses. [Strives to give Elizabeth 
flowers . 


The Coronation 135 

Sir Henry. Away, guards, with them ! Drive 
them out of sight. 

’T is ’gainst the law to hail its prisoner. 

[Elizabeth looks on silently . 
Rustic. Against thy law we ’ll set the Lord of 
Hosts. 

End of Scene . 

SCENE XI 

Courtyard at Woodstock. 

Guards and Servants. Elizabeth in litter . 
Bedingfield by her . Tame, Warder. 

Sir Henry. Arise, your grace; this weary 
journey’s done. 

Elizabeth. I am content; my soul doth wel¬ 
come it 

As end of all this trial. [ Seeks to risel\ Alas ! my 
coward limbs 

Deny their service. I prayed ye, O God, 

That I might face it as a princess should. 

The daughter of a king. And now — and now 
I quail as some poor churl. [Faints. 

Sir Henry. Oh, this is hard: 

She’s back again in fancy ’fore the block. 

I ’gin to be a traitor with the rest. [To women. 


136 The Coronation 

Bear her unto her bed. This place is still: 
Mayhap in sleep that demon will pass on 
To rend the hearts of those who sent him here. 

[ ( To Tame.] We’ll set the guards and fend her 
from the world 

So no new ill may come. What she hath ta’en 
Is not for us to answer. 

Tame. There ’s no fear 

Of danger from without, for Robin’s host 
Lie close about us, silent as the dead 
Lest they should stir her. 

Sir Henry. Look we then within 

For there abideth chance. [To Warder.] Who 
are these folk 
Who keep this house ? 

Warder. The most have known her long, 
And are knit to her even as we are 
With that which slays us as we see her now 
So changed from memory of her brave day. 

Sir Henry. Let those who know her not be 
set aside 

And safely guarded ; we may trust the rest. 

Send message to the Queen that we have brought 
Her sister’s body here as it was writ — 

Whether the life stays with it we know not. 

End of Scene . 


The Coronation 


*37 


SCENE XII 

Hall at Woodstock. 

Cecil, Bedingfield, Tame. Enter Physician. 
Cecil. Now ? 

Phys. Not yet, but near. The fever’s past, so 
too 

The hope that with its going life would back. 

She mutters low and ever of that fate, 

While with her palsied hands she gropes as if 
She sought to find a portal in the dark; 

We know it well ; they ever find that gate. 

Save for the hand of God e’er noon she ’ll die. 
Cecil. It must not be, for with it ends this 
realm 

And all the hopes of men. 

Phys. So those who bide 

Say ever unto Death, it must not be ! 

And yet they stay him not. Ye soon must come 
Beside her bed. The priests now do their part ; 
Mayhap in passing she will message give, 

For at the open door they often turn 

Back for a moment’s speech with those they love. 

[Exit Cecil and Physician. 
Sir Henry [looking forth on fields \. ’T is a fair 


morn. 


138 The Coronation 

Tame. Aye, fair soul never left 

A fairer land. I doubt me if in heaven 
The morns are fairer. 

Sir Henry. Or more fit to shame 

What finds its finish here, — where we must bide 
To ache on as we may, until some leech 
Comes with the tale of how we eager grope 
With our numb fingers on that mighty wall 
To find the unseen gate. Aye, man, ’t is hard 
To know that duty ’s led to such a grave 
As we shall stand by, there to know ourselves 
Foul sharers with the villains that it delved. 

Enter Servant. 

Servant [to Bedingfield]. Sir, one’s without 
who craveth speech with ye. 

Sir Henry. Bid him begone ! 

Servant. Nay, master, he should here. 

’T is plain he sorrows even as we do. 

Yet he has look of one who comes to save. 

Tame. ’T is Robin ! 

Sir Henry. Bid him enter : we forgot. 

Yea, he is of her folk and hath the right 
To mourn near by. More, he hath been 
All that these days have brought of sun to her. 

Enter Robin. He goes straightway to them . 

Tame. Welcome, Master Robin ! 


The Coronation 139 

Robin. Where doth she lie ? 

For I must to her. Quick ! there ’s little time. 
Sir Henry. Nay, man, she ’s nigh to death. 
The priests are there. 

Robin. Come, or I go alone to seek the way. 

\Exit with Bedingfield. 
End of Scene . 


SCENE XIII 

Woodstock. Room looking north. 
Elizabeth on couch at window . Priest, Cecil, 
Sir Henry, Tame, Physician, Servants. 
Elizabeth. I cannot creep unto it. Lift me 
there, — 

Quick with the stroke ! There ’s light enough. 
Ye turn away your faces. Oh dear Christ, 

Take Thou this weary soul. 

Cecil [to Physician]. Canst thou not spare 
Her soul this torment, — make the parting peace ? 
Phys. His peace will come full soon. Her last 
of life 

Will in this fancy pass. 

Eliz. In God’s name, strike ! 

Enter Robin, who goes to Elizabeth and takes her 
hand . 


The Coronation 


140 

Robin. Awake, my lass, and look away. 

Eliz. [blindly staring]. Oh Robin, thou hast left 
me overlong. 

Robin. Aye, lass, but now I 'm here. Awake 
and see 

Afar the land that waits thee as it bides 
The coming of the morn, the croft-strewn dales. 
The castled hills, with all thy dear folk bowed 
By aged fear. ’T is thine to give them hope. — 
Out of thyself and forth into thy realm 
Where God doth bid thee as His messenger ! 

Eliz. [looking away at the scene]. Yea, I will go 
with thee upon that way — 

Give strength to tread it. Lord, and I will do 
Thy bidding to the end. Ah, ‘ Robin Come 
Again ! * 

I know thee now; thou art my better self. — 

Stay with me, friend, and help me lest I die 
Before this task is done. 


End of Act Fourth . 


ACT FIFTH 

SCENE I 

Council Room of St. James’s Palace at 
Midnight. 

Councillors of Queen Mary. 

Bishop Bonner [to Physician]. 

)W near is it ? 

Phys. The stream doth bear her 
swift; 

Before the cock crows she will find 
the deep. 

She has the Tudor strength. 

My lords, she had 
That might to stem all tides; but it is gone 
To ashes in the flame: the flame ye ’ve set 
To burn her folk now rages in her soul. 

Yea, as a fired ship she drifts to sea 
And we can help not. 

Bonner. Ho, there ’s treason here ! 

Howard. Yea, Satan’s treason, truth. Ye’ll 
need be swift 



Bonner. 

Phys. 






142 The Coronation 

To smite this honesty, for with the sun 
Comes day that loves it well. 

Chancellor. Put him aside. 

He hath been faithful. We have else to judge, 

Or judgment is upon us with the morn. 

We have to stay this realm and place its crown 
Where right doth bid it rest. What shall be 
done ? 

Bonner. My lords, ’t is all accomplished by 
those years 

Of faithful service to our holy church; 

She 's set the way for us where we must on 
Unswerving to the end. 

Howard. Unto what end ? 

Bonner. That this, God's kingdom, stay within 
His fold 

Its crown shall rest where faith to Him is sure. 

Howard. Nay, it shall stay where our law bids 
it rest, — 

Upon her sister's head. Ah, priest, now ends 
The days when Rome hath crowned our Eng¬ 
land's kings 

And shepherded their ways. Aye, with the breath 
Of her ye've worn to grave the thraldom goes. 

Bonner. That is an ancient cry ; your mon- 
archs come 


The Coronation 143 

Stiffnecked into their thrones to be bent down 
By might of God. 

Howard. Ah, priest, that day is by. 

The god ye set here came straightway from hell,— 
T was Satan cloaked as Christ. We ’ll crown our 
law 

In trust it is our God’s. 

Enter Chamberlain. 

Chamb. My lords, she lies alone, 

The end is near and none are by to help 
Of kindred or of friends. It is not fit 
That servants only see her life go out. 

Bonner. Where are her priests ? 

Chamb. Their part is done, but still 

The torment holds. Her soul dare not away 
For what awaits it, though the insistent dust 
Clamours its due of death. Mayhap ’t will help 
If ye stay by her. 

Bonner. Nay, we ’ll stay her here 

With faithful purpose shaping as she’d have 
This kingdom for the Lord. She is assoiled, 

And all her seeming torment but a dream 
That masks the happy waking. Let us go 
Straight on to save the saintly work she’s done 
So it bide here forever. 

Chamb. Nay, go there 


144 The Coronation 

And see whereto ye ’ve brought a noble soul 

Who sought in ye a guide unto her God, 

To be led down to hell. 

Bonner. There’s treason here — 

Howard. Aye, councillors, ’t is treason to a king 
Whose throne is by the Tiber; unto ours 
’T is saving faith, alas ! too late to fend 
That lonely woman from the saddest grave 
Our England’s earth hath known. Yea, let us go 
Beside her for the parting ; with the love 
That bore her to her throne and with what cheer 
Doth stay in our sore hearts. [ Exeunt . 

End of Scene . 


SCENE II 

The Queen’s Chamber. 

The Queen, near to death . Councillors and 
Women. 

Woman. Would my Queen have drink? 
Queen. Yea, woman, all the deep 

To quench this fire \drinks\ . Ho, fiend ! it is 

blood 

Hot from their scorched hearts. It burns, it burns. 
[Sinks back , moaning . Arousing; to Councillors.] 


The Coronation 145 

Ye would behold my torment; see ye there 
The host that steadfast goeth to the flame : 

Old prophets bent beneath their faithful years, 
Youths light with morning. See, they gaze on 
me 

With sorrow for my woe. ’T is all that’s left 
To help my pain. Ah, look ye, look! There 
comes 

The mother with her babe. It tugs her breast 
And clingeth to her eyes. Yea, it is He 
Who came to save and she who blessed love. 

Love to this world. — Ah, the child, the child ! 

He turns to me for mercy. *T is the babe 

I dreamed lay near my heart. Now they go on 

Whereto I have appointed, for I am 

Set over Satan for this end of all 

That earth hath dreamed of hope. [Falls back . 

Bonner [to Phys.] Hast thou no help 

To ease this pain ? 

Phys. The body is long dead 

And what here writhes is woe we cannot still: 

We wait the Lord for that. 

Queen [arousing \. My councillors, 

Ye who have stayed this demon in her deeds. 

Hold now her palsied hands to that hard flame 

[Holds out trembling hands . 


146 The Coronation 

Until they shrivel up. ’T is the last help 
Ye give me in this world. Ah, it hurts not, 

For it doth quell the burning in my heart, 

Yea, stills my soul to know they ’ll harm no more 
Who so have smote the Lord. 

[Sinks back insensible. 

Howard [to Bonner] Bishop, bishop, 

Where is thy help for this ? Bring back thy 
priests. 

Thy books and candles; relics of all saints 
To save thy servant this immortal woe. 

[Bonner is silent. For a while all is still 
except for the moans of the Queen. 
Then Serving Woman kneels by the 
Queen, taking her hand. 

Serving Woman [in prayer ]. O Thou who 
knew’st earth’s torment, smite us all 
Who stand before Thy throne for what we’ve done 
At Satan’s bidding in Thy holy name : 

Slay us, O God, but spare this woman true, 

Who stumbled in her dark and lonely way 
And smote when she would save. Come, Christ, 
to her 

And still her heart to peace ; for she sought Thee, 
Sought in the darkness, finding not the light 
Of Thy dear eyes — 


The Coronation 147 

Queen [ with outstretched arms ]. My child, my 
child, 

I 've waited long. [She dies . 

[After a pause the Chancellor goes to the 
door of chamber . Sound of trumpets and 
voice of Herald. 

Herald. God save Elizabeth, our England's 
Queen ! 

End of Scene . 

SCENE III 

Garden at Hatfield. 

Elizabeth and Ascham. 

Elizabeth. Ah, master, this seems other than 
we read 

How long ago ! Sure 't is an age since then. 
Ascham. 'T was then in bitter March, 't is 
now fair May : 

So 't is this story does not read the same. 

Then the dear tale of Er, Armenius' son, 

Was but a pretty fable for a child, 

Told by a sage who knew well child and man ; 
Now’t is a picture of the sovereign's task, 

Of one who feels each step is meaningful 
Of good or ill eternal. 


148 The Coronation 

Eliz. You read well; 

For thus the sages sum their wisdom up 
In the brave deeds of men where each may find 
Soul’s help, and past this moment’s stay behold 
The way to higher deeds. So earth and sky. 

And all that in them joys, meet eye that sees ; 
They give its quest and bid it onward hie. 

It must be age that brings all this to me. 

Ascham. Nay, it is youth that’s with you, — 
youth that sees . 

The grave procession of the silent fates 
Bearing the burdens that life hath to do 
Until you make them yours. The child that 
was 

When we read this before died in your pain. 

And in its place the larger youth looks forth, 
Reading as other what it read before. 

Eliz/ [looking forth]. It all is strange and mean¬ 
ingful ; this scene, 

So dear to me of old, now dearer yet. 

Is other than I knew it. Then ’twas gay 
With merry beckonings, but now’t is grave 
And peopled with the shades of deeds to be. 

Ascham. Yea, it is as a glass where we may 
look 

Into ourselves and judge us as we go ; 


The Coronation 149 

For this the noble earth is fitly man’s, 

For this our Lord hath built it. Look again 
And see a vaster image of the time 
When those dim shades have won them strength 
from days. 

Eliz. Dear master, what is there ? Yon fields 
unfold 

Until they pass the sky and on and on 
They roll their heavenly splendour. O’er them 
tread 

A wondrous throng of folk that stately go 
As if they knew that honour went with them 
Unto God’s welcome. Would that we were there. 
For they have nobler earth than we here know. 
Ascham. They go with thee, my princess; 
’t is the path 

Whereon He bids thee lead them in thy day. 
Eliz. It is a strange foretelling. 

Ascham. Nay, ’t is writ 

So plain thy folk have read it all thy days. 

[Elizabeth looks steadfastly away . As¬ 
cham retires . 

Ascham \alone \. Yea, she is changed — so nobly 
changed. The seed 

That good and ill have sown have sprung to day; 
As yet the good corn wins. 


150 The Coronation 

Enter Cecil. 

Cecil \to Ascham]. She needs be strong. 
Ascham. She has the strength she needs. 

Hath it come to her ? [. Procession approaches . 

Cecil [ pointing to procession^ . ’T is upon the 
way. 

Eliz. Ah, Cecil, I was far when thou wert near; 
That was amiss, and yet I saw thee there 
In wondrous years to come, in what’s to do 
To help this noble land. 

Cecil. There would I go 

Where ye must lead us now. Behold here comes 
The message that doth send ye to your folk 
To be their faithful helper. 

Enter Arundel. 

Arundel [kneeling]. We hail thee sovereign of 
our realm and hearts. 

Eliz. It is God’s work and wondrous in our 
eyes : 

I go with you, my people, in your quest. 

Shouts of People. God save Elizabeth, our 
England’s Queen! 

End of Scene. 


The Coronation 


!5i 


SCENE IV 

The Hall of Judgment in the Tower of 
London. 

Elizabeth, Cecil, Courtiers and Guards . 
Elizabeth. So we must round this cycle of our 
life: 

Here lay I without hope ; here I must stand 
A moment ere I go upon my way. 

Yea, here have fallen princes from their seats. 

But God hath willed that I herefrom should rise, 
Helped by His mercy, to this kingdom’s throne. 

[Bridges kneels to her . 
[To Bridges]. Dear man, I craved thy welcome to 
this place 

Where thou didst guard me with thy loyal soul 
When those who owed me faith had at my life. 
Rise, Bridges, fit to stand before the Lord 
Are men like thee, in His true image made. 

[Lifts him by the hand . 

Where is thy child ? I ’d have again the light 
Of eyes that blessed me on that woeful morn. 
Enter Child. 

[Lifting Child]. Ah, little one, dost thou remem¬ 
ber me ? 


152 The Coronation 

Child. Yea, mistress, for you were to bring me 
blooms 
From far away. 

Eliz. And too the pretty key 

That opened all the gates and let me forth; 

Here, they are thine. [Gives Child key and flowers . 

Child. Mine was a little key, 

But this is big and bright and hath a chain. 

Eliz. Yea, dear one, it hath grown; some keys 
do that. 

Wait till thou dost the like and then thou ’It know 
What this has meant by growing as it lay 
Near to my heart. 

Child. Bide, mistress, with us here 

And I will show you where some posies bloom. 
And we ’ll go down that stair you’d like to see: 
You did not go there, for you are here now. 

’T will sound a merry echo to your feet. 

Eliz. Oh tongue of child to wake the hearts 
of men 

With voice of God ! -— Nay, dear, I cannot bide: 
These people bid me on, and many wait 
For what they *d have me do. But I will come 
Again to greet thee. [To Cecil.] The priest who 
sets the crown 

Upon my eager head will give me less 


153 


The Coronation 

Than cometh here as this grim Tower dies 
Out of my tortured soul. Oh, I ’ve forgot 
Our very ark of safety in that sea. 

He should be here to greet us. 

Cecil. Ah, my queen, 

He is no courtier; he awaits sore need. 

We pray he comes not, though we love him well. 
Eliz. Yea, thou art right. Thrice hath he 
stood by me, 

Thrice there to save when else I had been lost: 
Oh, it is strange, but I begin to see 
That this dear world hath much that passeth eyes. 
Cecil. We now must forth, my liege, for on 
the way 

The people wait since dawn. Yea, all your land 
Bursts heart to welcome England’s lass as Queen. 
Eliz. ‘ Our England’s lass! ’ They need not 
set my crown : 

He gave it with their message in that name. 

But we will forth to greet them. Let us on ! 

End of Scene . 


r 54 


The Coronation 


SCENE V 

East Gate of London. 

Chariot with Elizabeth and Cecil in procession . 
Throng of people. 

Elizabeth. Where are we, Cecil ? They 
have changed my town 
From grave to gay. Yea, all is wonder here. 
Cecil. This is your city’s gate, now turned to 
gold, 

The first of marvels set upon your way. 

See how yon wall is crowned with parapet 
Of sturdy spear-men. Look the wide world o’er 
To find like rampart that girds in a king. — 

Oh, hear them roar to still the Tower’s guns ! 
That shout would drown a host from o’er the 
sea. 

Eliz. It frights me, Cecil. Yea, it is a deep. 

I dare not in it. 

Cecil. On, my liege, straight on. 

You ’ll swim it well so soon as you are in; 

You’ll find the art for that as for all else. 

[Procession comes to gate . Heralds trumpet . 
Herald. Hail to the sun that cometh from the 


east 


The Coronation 155 

To end our night. We bow to it as men 
Who see their waited morning in its Queen. 

Eliz. Good herald, tell my people that they 
bring 

To me the day that dawned within their hearts. 
To them I look for light to show the path 
That we shall tread together as we go 
By God’s appointment to the end of days. 

I ’ll answer trust with trust and love with love. 
Herald. Enter our gates, O Queen! Thine 
are the words 

To open all our portals; come within 
To see how we shall strive to light thy way. 

[.Procession passes gate . Poor people press 
to her with flowers . Guards beat them 
back . 

Eliz. Nay, let them to me, for to me they ’re 
near. 

Yea, I have known the time the poorest here 
Seemed passing rich to me. [Taking flowers.] Good 
friends, I take 

Your gifts unto my heart. This rosemary 
Is the first bloom our land sends me as Queen; 

’T will never send a richer, for it bears 
Love of my folk in fairer guise than gold. 

[To Old Woman]. Yea, dame, till I am old I ’ll 
treasure it 


156 The Coronation 

To mind me how my people wished me well 
As we set out together on this morn 
To find our promised land. 

Grandame [same as at Smithjield\ Look in her 
face. Yea, we are of her soul. 

Dear Christ, why came she not before we died ? 
Grandfather. Peace, wife, for now before 
we die we know 

The Lord hath not forgot His covenant. 

[Procession at Fenchurch Street. 
Eliz. And now, my Virgil, tell me what is this 
That lifts it fore us as to him who went 
Up the far arching ways of paradise ? 

Cecil. It is a living story of their kings 
From the far day when came an end of ills 
In union of the Roses. There is she 
Who gave ye name and else that claims our love, 
Joined to the Tudor king, your grandsire, dear 
To merchants’ hearts. From them leads up 
A stem to hear its fruit in your great sire 
And her his queen near to our English folk. 

It tells in part the story of their faith 
And hope that lights your coming to our throne. 
Eliz. Ah, ’t is my mother’s image ! That tells 
much 

Of how they do remember and forget 
Alike to show their love. 


The Coronation 157 

Herald. Dear Queen, behold 

The tree that shall give shelter to our land: 

We’ll tend it well and see it bourgeon wide. 

Eliz. Dear folk, ye know the art to win your 
kings 

To be your very selves. This maid ye crown 

Was yours when in her cradle, — yours will stay 

Faithful beside ye till she finds her grave. 

Cecil. Here speaks again their love in tokens 
ta’en 

From out the Book they claim from your dear 
hands. 

[Pageant of Lopers ’ Lane. Children as 
Beatitudes singing . 

It is the Master’s sermon on the mount 

As they have read it in your sufferings; 

’T is fit this angel child should tell it here. 

Child [recites], ‘Thou hast been eight times 
blest, O Queen of worthy fame : 

By meekness of thy spirit when care did thee beset; 

By mourning in thy grief; by mildness in thy 
blame; 

By hunger and by thirst when right thou couldst 
not get; 

By mercy showed, not preached; by fairness of 
thy heart; 


158 The Coronation 

By seeking peace alway; by persecutions wrong. 
Therefore trust thou on God, since He hath 
helped thy smart 

And as His promise is so He will make thee 
strong/ 

Eliz. Praise to the God who gave me strength 
to bear 

What I have borne to win my way to ye ! 

I found it, Oh my people, in His word 
That stayed ye in your trials to this end. 

Cecil. Here is another token from the Book; 
It telleth how Deborah, Israel’s Queen, 

For two score years held war from out her land 
And went in peace unto her blessed grave. 

5 T is image of their prayer. 

Eliz. I cry amen 

To that brave prayer, my people. She shall be 
The saint who guides our steps for all our time; 
Ay, from my soul I cry amen to this. 

Voice. Hail to the Lord who by His servant 
speaks ! 

Cecil. See now the last of this great heart that 
tells 

In ancient ways whereby it moves its kings 
To know its woes and longings. There is Time, 
Hoary, and dull, and merciless in deeds. 


The Coronation 159 

Mowing straight on, unheeding of what falls 
As from the age eternal fore men came. 

Beside him Hope, who clasps the book that keeps 
What may against that ancient ill prevail 
So it be loosened from the bonds that hold 
Its light from earth. See now Hope seeks the 
way 

To might that makes it free. 

[Bible is lowered to Elizabeth’s hands. 
Eliz. [kisses book ]. Hear me, my people, hear! 
All your fair pageants have gone to my heart, 

For each hath sent its story and appeal 
To ring there all my days. Unto my soul 
Goes this dear token of the good we seek. 

Yea, I will make ye answer with like sign 
As now I break these clasps and let the day 
Light on this covenant that binds us here 
And on forever with the God of all. 

This ark goes to your keeping ; guard it well ! 
Voice. Kneel to His grace that speaketh in our 
Queen. 

Eliz. You ’ve made me fit to wear our king¬ 
dom’s crown 

By this your welcome and the hope it sends 
To shape my life and give it strength to bear 
What comes of ill. 


160 The Coronation 

Voice. Farewell, farewell, dear Queen; 

Our hearts go with ye. 

Eliz. Nay, ’t is not farewell; 

We bide together for what is to do 
So soon that load is laid upon my head, 

There where the living take it from the dead. 

End of Scene . 


SCENE VI 

At Door of Abbey. 

A Hunchback approaches Elizabeth. 
Elizabeth. See, Cecil, yonder crooked wretch 
would here. 

Have him away. He comes to mar the end 
Of this fair pageant set by shapely men. 

Cecil. My liege, I know him well : his soul 
is straight 

As though Apollo lodged it. Read his eyes 
To find how fate may habit merry wit 
In a sad garment. 

Eliz. Such are misnamed men ; 

They mock their heritage. 

Cecil. My Queen hath known 

Fair shapes with hunchbacked souls. 


The Coronation 161 

Eliz. Yea, that I have, 

Who give our Lord the lie ; we ’ll see if this 
Betters his Maker’s truth. [To Hunchback.] 
Speak, crooked one. 

Who art thou ? What wouldst have here of thy 
Queen ? 

Clod. Good mistress, I am Clod. 

Eliz. So, Clod, well named. 

A bit of rude earth waiting for good seed 
And sun to lift it so it fit the sky, 

Now ugly clay. 

Clod. Ay, mistress, that is Clod, 

He lieth in the furrow but would rise. 

Eliz. Such is the will of Clods ; the goodly 
will 

The Lord denies to most. Where shall this find 
The day to wake it ? 

Clod. Mistress, in thine eyes. 

Eliz. Ho, that is straightly said. But know 
thee, Clod, 

They do abhor thee. Ay, they ’gin to squint 
At gazing on thee. 

Clod. Mistress, the brave sun 

Mislikes the most of what it looks upon 
When it from prison winter scapes to spring, 

But swift it mends it all, as we see here. 


162 The Coronation 

Eliz. Ha, lad, thou goest far. Yet thou hast 
come 

A ways unto my heart; thy sprouting wit 
May cloak thy ugliness. Ay, as I look 
Thou art not so awry as first it seemed. 

Mend thus by marvel, thou ’ll soon wax as fair 
As courtier should be. 

Clod. Nay, I ’ll be thy clown 

With merry wisdom’s cure for solemn ills 
As doth become a fool. 

Eliz. [to Cecil]. Good mentor, tell : 

Take Kings their clowns before their crowns are 
set ? 

What is the rule ? 

Cecil. Ah, dear my liege, the crown 

Is but a shapely bauble ye may buy 
To deck ye as ye will. True clown is rare 
As noblest jewel of King’s diadem, 

Who hath as this the truth of faithful men 
And antic phrase to point an eager wit ; 

Such honest fortune sends for Kings to take 
With swift thanks for the gift. 

Eliz. There, master Clod, 

Thou hast thy patent as our royal fool : 

We bid thee study well our wise men’s ways 
To render us their hearts. Now get thee gone 


The Coronation 163 

Until our task is done ; then bring thy hump 
And peddle us its gems. They ’ll jewels be ; 

That shapely pack is for no common wares, 

But for fair traffic. [Exit Clod. 

[To Cecil.] Cecil, this is strange : 

He came as clown, but here he stood as man, — 
Ay, as a noble changing with his King 
Best coin of fancy. 

Cecil. He’s the last, dear Queen, 

Of all these pageants with their prophecies 
That show ye to this door. The rest will fade 
To common men and rags ; but he will stay, 

He and his like, for all your days to come. 

End of Scene. 


SCENE VII 

Westminster Abbey. 

Elizabeth, Cecil, and of Lords, Ladies, etc ., and 
Citizens a great company. Bishop sets crown 
on Elizabeth’s head. 

ist Citizen. Now, now, she is our Queen, her 
crown is set. 

2D Citizen. Nay, man, this is but mummery : 
she was Queen 


164 The Coronation 

These years agone. When in her face we saw 

The gentle might we craved to be our lord. 

The might that held us stilled the while she bore 
Long years of torment. Yea, she ruled us well; 
As she will rule our children when we ’re gone. 
Paget. So it is done, my lord. We ’re beaten 
here: 

That crown’s a cross for us. How came it so 
That Popes and Kings and parliaments and we, 
Brave lords and gentlemen of this wide realm. 

For all our stout opposing have but built 
The easy way for her to win our throne ? 

Crack head and neck, I cannot make it out. 

Petrie. Hark to those knaves beside us, — they 
have won 

And know not how they did it : ’t is for us, 

Their beaten betters, to see what it means. 

To see that we are conquered by the might 
That dwells within the herd we have contemned. 
Yea, there’s the reckoning for what is past 
And eke for what’s to come. We struck at 
her, 

A hapless maid ; but every blow was turned 
Back on our heads by that vast might unseen 
Save when it stood before us in the Tower 
In clout and jerkin sceptred with a stave. 


The Coronation 165 

Paget. We ’ll reckon our account with neck 
on block. 

Petrie. If that would end the story it were 
well, 

Though we have her fair promise that we ’re safe. 
She spares our heads because she knows that we 
Thus beaten will serve best if we live on. 

Helpless for reason that we are alive. 

She is a monarch. Look ye how she stands 
Mid all this pageant, nobly there apart 
With eyes that see beyond it. She’s a queen 
To win obeisance from her foemen’s hearts: 

Yea, I am beaten, but my soul is glad 
In all its shame to see what we behold. 

Paget. She plays her part; it is our own to 

p la y 

What game we can to scotch it. We have still 
Our honest swords and hearts. 

Petrie. Ay, but we ’re held 

If not to serve her, still to keep her safe ; 

She’s tied us with our necks she did not loose: 

We may mislike the bond and yet it holds 
Our faith as men. 

Paget. Hold ye to what ye will; 

My faith stays where it’s pledged. For her it has 
The first fair chance to strike. 


i66 


The Coronation 
Petrie. That chance is gone : 

Ye took its price with us; so ye are held 
Even as we. 

Paget. On that we part. I have 
The work to do alone. 

Petrie. I pray you stay 

And share with us; to grin as best you can, 

To gird a bit mayhap, but with your sword 
Still in its sheath for all that she has done, 

Or forth for her if needs be ’gainst the herd 
Who know not what faith is unless ’t is writ 
In fair inscription by some noverint 
With tricks to check the quibblings of a knave 
Who nothing sees but winning. 

Paget. Stay, my Lord ! 

This knave will give you answer with his sword. 
Petrie. I ’ll take it thence. But know you 
cannot loose 

The bond that binds you. Come what may of 
this, 

It holdeth fast. Yea the surety is good,— 

In thousand blades as sharp as those we bear. 

[Exeunt. End of Coronation. Eliza¬ 
beth, after kneeling and receiving the 
crown , stands before the throng. 

Eliz. Here, in the presence of Almighty God, 


The Coronation 167 

I take this crown worn by the kings He sent, — 
Gage of my people’s love, gage of my faith 
To do your sovereign’s part. I am a maid, 

Yet I dare pledge to fend you from your ills; 

I am but woman, yet I know my heart 
Hath that within it to make good your trust 
And love that hath me guarded through the deep 
I’ve trod to safety where was else my doom. 

Yea, I have valour born of your true faith 
And might abounding from your willing hands. 

Go to your houses ; set ye forth your cheer; 

Toil in your joying, — toil as we must all 
To win the safety that comes but with strength. 
[To Sailors], Men of the sea, go rend its mighty 
surge 

With ships that smite their way to farthest shores, 
And learn therefrom how victory is won. 

[To Countrymen .] Men of the land, go set your 
ploughs afield, 

Sing as you sow this earth to jubilee, 

And harvest England’s strength unto your homes. 
Forget not by your chimneys hang the arms 
That guard this empire ; that your churchyards 
grow 

With roots in sires’ dust the yews that give 
Stout bows to send brave answer to all foes. 


168 The Coronation 

[To Matrons .] Ye mothers, bear brave sons to 
ward this state: 

They shall bide near ye, for if war doth come. 

They ’ll find it here where ye would have them 
die. 

Upon the thresholds of the homes they fend. 

[To Youths and Maidens .] And ye, fair maidens, 
ye, our lusty youth, 

We go together on the ways of God 

To seek our England in the years to come ; 

Hold we our faith together till the end. 

Stay me, my people, stay me lest I fall. 

This woman hath sore burthen with her crown ; 

Help her to bear it till her task is done. 

Yeoman. Yea, lass, we’ll stay thee, for thou 
art our own ; 

Send us the day when we may for thee die. 

Guard. Ho, man, thou dost forget she is our 
Queen. 

Yeoman. Nay, Guard, from now our Queen ; 
but she has been 

Our darling lass since day when she was born. 

[Procession departs. 


End of Scene. 


The Coronation 


169 


SCENE VIII 

Outside the Abbey. 

Petrie and Cecil. 

Cecil [/<? Petrie]. I saw you forth with Pa¬ 
get ; where is he ? 

Petrie [pointing away.] He bides there. 

Cecil. For good ? 

Petrie. Ay, or hap for ill; 

The Lord will reckon that in His fit time. 

Cecil. You both misliked this ? 

Petrie. Verily, we did, 

As I do still; yet there are sundry things 
I mislike more than this. 

Cecil. She should this know. 

Petrie. Nay, nay, that must not be. It stands 
we fought 

As to the time the moon set yesternight ; 

We would not trust the almanac for that. 

My quarte did prove me right. 

Cecil. Ah, my sure heart! 

Petrie. My lord, count not on that. Here 
stands a man 

Who knows he *s beaten and whose back is sore. 
Who finds his sorry comfort when a knave 


170 The Coronation 

Doth run upon his point; so I will on 
Mayhap to find another who will try 
This point with me. Alack, I have forgot 
T is dark o’ the moon; we ’ll make it sunrise 
then : 

There is no doubt a sun came up this day. 

[They part . 

End of Scene . 


SCENE IX 

Audience Room at Whitehall Palace. 

Elizabeth and Cecil. 

Elizabeth. I ’m long without my mentor. 
Cecil. Nay, my liege, 

The time is by for that: ’t is yours to show 
The way with sceptre; ours to follow on. 
Knowing the sovereign’s grace and strength are 
yours. 

Eliz. So it went well ? 

Cecil. As God would have His work. 

Ay, we forgot the woman in the queen : 

What would you more for proof that there be¬ 
gan 

The first brave act of our fair history, 


The Coronation 171 

With England for a stage, and centuries 
To watch the scenes that soon are to unfold ? 

Eliz. Now that T is done, I feel as might a 
child 

After a play, — merry at once and sad. 

Cecil. So with our history till it is played. 


End of "The Coronation . 


EPILOGUE 


EE, on yon field now sways the nod¬ 
ding corn 

That harvests ripeness from this sum¬ 
mer morn 
Until the reaper lusteth for its gold 
And leaves the earth of all its glory shorn. 

The morrow of the sickle comes the plow 
Set deep in earth ; the swaying oxen bow 
Their weight ’gainst stubborn soil until ’t is turned 
Once more to answer to creation’s vow. 

Then, swinging seed, plods in the toiling swain, 
And then the Master soweth with His rain, 

Till to the earth and sky the crowning year 
Sends back its noble burthen of fair grain. 

And on and ever on those wheels of time 
Turn as the miller croons his homely rhyme, 
Awhile he watches how the corn doth fall 
Unto the fate he never dreamed sublime. 



Epilogue 173 

On, for the ages on, hath this dear field 
Sent forth such golden harvests and its yield 
Is dust of heroes sown this world about, 

And fate of men with its good earth is sealed. 

Their cradles here, their graves where they may 
fall, 

Their monuments wherever men recall 
The deeds of mighty dead by happy hearths 
Or on the eve of battle for their all. 

They were not made beneath the earth to lie, 

But as God's seed to spring. Where else may die 
Unto forgetfulness in idle dust, 

They in the hearts of men shall seek the sky. 

They know again dear life where’er the heart 
Of son doth spring to deeds that were their part; 
They stand before their God in kinsmen’s eyes 
And in their veins anew His pulses start. 


(Cfoe fitoer^ibe 

Electrotyfied and printed by H. O. Houghton b* Co. 
Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A. 


























































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































: V 





























































































. 
























































































